Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures
by Iva1201
Summary: This fic is my try to include Professor Snape to DH. I really wanted him to be more present in that book and maybe he was. Remember there was someone in Godric's Hollow that night except Harry, Hermione, Nagini and Voldemort? Snape-Potter mentoring.
1. The Headmaster's Christmas

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 1: The Headmaster's Christmas **_

_Disclaimer/Author's Note:__ Nothing mine, though I wish the last book was and I could change its outcome and the many things I didn't like in it. (-:_

_This fic is my try to include Professor Snape into DH – I am pretty sure that I was not the only one disappointed with his absence from the major part of that book. _

_Chapter 1 was betaed by JamesLuver. THANK YOU! (-:_

_Enjoy!_

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**Motto:**

_"There is someone there. Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes."_

(Hermione Granger to Harry Potter, Christmas Night 1997, graveyard in Godric's Hollow)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 270

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_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Christmas Eve 1997_

The dark greasy curtain of hair and black woollen cloak covered in fresh snowflakes, Severus Snape, the acting Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, entered the circular office of his predecessors. He brushed the snow off as far as it hadn't melted yet and taking off his heavy outer robes, he sneered at the portraits joyfully decorated with holly and mistletoe and armed with goblets full of Christmas punch. _Christmas,_ he smirked with disgust, _as if there's anything to celebrate!_

The dark man threw his cloak on the chair in front of the fireplace, helped himself to a glass of spirit and took seat in the Headmaster's chair. For a while, Snape simply nursed the drink, his eyes absent; then, a voice addressed him from behind, interrupting his musing: "Have you visited her again, Severus?" Dumbledore's portrait asked, sounding sincerely interested.

"As if you would care," the younger man uttered unpleasantly, staring into the amber liquid.

Dumbledore smiled sadly: "As much as you refuse to believe it, Severus, I do care."

Snape's head jerked up in annoyance and the younger wizard turned and angrily eyed the portrait. "You are perfectly right, Dumbledore. _I don't believe you,"_ the Slytherin said, his voice icy.

Albus Dumbledore's portrait regretfully nodded and for a while, silence took over in the room. Snape's eyes were fixed at his half-empty glass when he finally started to speak again. "He… _Potter…_ was there… with the Granger girl, I believe. _Reckless as ever -"_ Snape scowled "- marching there with the whole parade when the cemetery may very well be watched!"

"You went there as well, Severus – and not for the first time," Dumbledore reminded the younger man. "It's not perfectly safe for you either."

_"Maybe,"_ Snape replied in a low, dark voice. "But I am not the currently most searched for wizard in Britain…"

"…and Lord Voldemort knows well about your affection to Lily Potter," Dumbledore added quietly. "While you never allowed the Order to be given the same information."

_"Don't you dare_ to pretend you regret it, old man! At the end, it played in _your_ cards!" Snape snapped at the portrait and took a hearty sip from his glass. Then, hesitating slightly, the younger man continued, his voice gradually growing enraged: "The boy will get himself killed before he even has the chance to get a glimpse of the Dark Lord again if this goes on, Dumbledore! I told you this was not going to work!" Snape stood up, hitting the desk in front of him with his glass and began pacing the room, his eyes shooting daggers at Dumbledore's cheerful face whenever his eyes turned in the portrait's direction.

"I told you that the boy would need some _adult_ to assist him! But no, you simply refused to listen to me!" Snape shook his head in angry disbelief. "I will not deny Granger is very gifted and Weasley faithful beyond the grave, Dumbledore, but what do any of them – _Potter included_ – know about leading a war? Do you know they shouted _their real names_ at each other in the graveyard tonight? What does it help that they look differently or wear the _damned cloak_ then? And what _the hell_ is this constant use of Polyjuice supposed to mean, anyway? Does _at least_ the Granger girl not know that in these amounts the draught is poisonous? Not deadly, mind you, but still unpleasant enough for them to want to avoid using it – especially when they have no access to medical facilities…"

Snape glared at the portrait: "What are they searching for anyway, Dumbeldore? Don't you think that it is high time you let me know?"

Dumbledore remained silent for a while, the piercing blue eyes studying the younger man. "You know the reasons why I cannot answer you, Severus," Dumbledore then said calmly.

"Indeed," Snape muttered through gritted teeth. "But I am still to protect the boy."

"You are _to assist him_ when the need arises," Dumbledore gently corrected. "For the time being, however, I would very much prefer you to protect the children that were entrusted into your care here at Hogwarts."

Snape wordlessly stared at the portrayed man. Then he started to laugh madly. "_Entrusted into my care,_ Dumbledore? By whom, pray tell? _The Ministry _or_ the Dark Lord himself?_ I can't see either of them caring for their well-being…"

Dumbledore waited until the young man's harsh laugh died out. "_By me,_ Severus," he said quietly.

Snape looked back at him with a rebellious glance but the overwhelming sadness that took over on Dumbledore's face robbed him of words. He sat back in his armchair and again reached for the glass. "I cannot do anything about the Carrows," he said defensively, his voice resigned.

Dumbledore nodded. "I know."

Snape looked at him tiredly, a question in his eyes.

"Dilys informs me that the infirmary runs low on potions," the portrait offered.

Snape furrowed his brows. "Slughorn brews for Poppy, I have seen to that," he said calmly.

"Even the Anti-Cruciatus serum?" The portrait's voice was cautious.

"No," Snape bit his lips. _Slughorn wouldn't know the improved version, anyway._ "Not that one." He nodded, understanding. The Carrows hadn't become any more tolerable. "I shall brew it," he promised. "Even though, I do not believe Poppy will be inclined to use any potions of my production."

"Oh, she will make use of this one, I am sure. Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore gratefully smiled. "And now, before I forget - happy Christmas."

"_Happy,_ indeed," Snape drawled and returned to studying his empty glass.

The room became silent once more and as the night grew shorter, Snape almost dozed off in his armchair as the majority of portraits surrounding him and lasting him the only company. When he finally tiredly rose to go to bed, he noticed that Phineas Nigellus Black was missing between the dozing celebrants - a strange sight, indeed, because the portraits rarely missed the celebrations. Snape frowned but decided to put off any investigation until the morning. As he staggered in the direction of his bedroom, however, Phineas Nigellus appeared in his empty frame, his eyes big and strangely concerned.

"The Potter boy was… was bitten… by You-Know-Who's snake," the portrayed wizard managed between raspy breaths.

_"What!?"_ Snape bellowed, suddenly fully awake, angry eyes again directed at Dumbledore. "Do you know where they are?" he demanded.

"Yes… yes, I do … the girl was quite frantic and didn't pay attention… to what she was saying," Phineas smirked and both Snape and Dumbledore's portrait breathed out in relief.

"Then tell me where I am to Apparate to, damn it!" Snape commanded, rushing out of the office while Accioing supplies. _"Happy Christmas, really,"_ he threw at Dumbledore one last time and was gone the moment Phineas named the location.

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	2. The Dittany Cure

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 2: The Dittany Cure **_

_Disclaimer/Author's Note:__ Nothing mine, so do not wonder and simply enjoy._

_I thank JamesLuver for betaing this chapter! (-:_

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**Motto:**

_"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try. (…) It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open."_

(Mr. Weasley to Fred, Christmas 1995, St. Mungo's)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix," GB children version (2003) – p. 431

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_Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place_

_Early Christmas Day 1997_

_Tent, the idiots were camping in a tent! _Snape swore as he Apparated into the forest and saw the fabric shelter covered in fresh snow. Phineas had never mentioned where the children lived and Snape had to admit that he hadn't cared before. _A tent, in the middle of winter! Idiotic Gryffindors!_ He longed to shout it aloud, to abduct points and order detentions – but forced himself to remain quiet as he needed to surprise the girl. If he wasn't mistaken, Potter was in no shape to stand up to him right now.

Snape approached the tent, his eyes carefully studying the surroundings as he did so. When he didn't spot anything of interest, he cast a swift warning charm and reached his hand to open the threshold of Potter's shelter. As quietly as a cat, Snape entered the tent. On the lower berth of the bunk bed right in front of him rested the Potter boy, his face sweaty and as pale as death, the infamous scar inflamed and another building on his cheek. Hermione Granger was frantically waving her wand over the boy, heavily sobbing. She clearly didn't hear the intruder. Snape nodded gratefully, thankful that he didn't have to fight her, and flicked his wand, silently casting _Petrificus Totalus._

The girl fell back in the old, moth-eaten armchair standing next to Potter's bunk, her wand falling to the ground; her eyes widening in her petrified face as she recognized the older wizard nearing Harry's bed. "No!" She wanted to scream, to warn Harry, but found out she couldn't; her eyes horrified.

Snape looked her coldly up and down, satisfied deep down that she seemed unharmed, and looked around. Weasley was indeed nowhere in sight – so Phineas had been right. It was only the two of them now, Potter and Granger. He sincerely hoped that they guarded their shelter better when Potter wasn't lethally injured.

That reminded him to swiftly approach the bed the boy lay on. His eyes were still taking in the many bruises on Potter's body, the scratch on his face and the bleeding puncture marks left after Nagini's bite on Harry's forearm – strangely, in exactly the same place where Voldemort marked his followers with the Dark Mark – when his wand ran its first diagnostic charm over Potter's battered body. Bruises, mostly bruises, he wanted to sigh in relief, but there was still Nagini's venom running through the veins of the boy and while the snake clearly hadn't been ordered to kill, it couldn't very well hinder injecting the poison in the wound.

Snape was strongly reminded of the night when Dumbledore had pulled him out of his bed in the middle of the night right before Christmas two years ago. _"Voldemort," the old man mouthed and Severus immediately stepped aside to let him into his dimly lit chambers; silently cursing Umbridge for watching even Dumbledore's fireplace. "He sent his snake to the Ministry. Arthur was bitten –" _

_"Nagini? I am afraid I still wasn't able to finish the antidote but she is not deadly per se as you know well..." _

_"Arthur was bitten really badly, Severus. He would have bled out if St. Mungo's didn't apply the thrice charmed bandages." That was bad, Snape knew. Slowly, he nodded. "I shall look at it immediately," he promised. "But if I find the cure, my name mustn't be mentioned." Dumbledore gave him an affirmative nod. "It won't, Severus." Once again, you will be spared the praise that rightfully belongs to you…_

Snape bowed over the boy's figure and took a closer look at the puncture marks. This time they were small and the bleeding wouldn't really harm the boy for hours yet. It was, however, also too late to simply extract the venom from the wound and let the body deal with the wound itself. If not treated, Snape knew, the venom would harm internal organs and cause lasting damage. "Very well, Potter," he said, disgust plain in his voice, "you will have to endure my potions once again."

Snape stood and searched his pockets for a small vial. Unstoppering it, he forced the boy to open his mouth and drink the contents of the flask. Potter forcefully swallowed, then jerked up and coughed. Snape got hold on him and when the coughing fit ended, he eased the boy back on his pillows. For a while, Snape remained standing by the bed; then, when the boy's face started to turn from deadly pale to the somewhat more tolerable pale of the sick, he nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to Miss Granger.

The girl was eyeing him from her body's imprisonment with wide eyes and disbelief written all over her weary face. "Miss Granger," he greeted politely and had to smirk over her swiftly altering expression. "I trust you have some Extract of Dittany to close the wound."

Her eyes told him she would have nodded if not petrified. "Good," he said, and once again turned to the boy. The diagnostic charm revealed the boy was building a fever, but that was to be expected. "Potter will be delirious for several hours," he informed the girl matter-of-factly, his eyes still on Lily's brat. "But he shall survive _this latest adventure of his_," he sneered, "without lasting harm."

"You, on the other hand," Snape turned to her startled face. "Would have failed my Potions NEWTs class if still at Hogwarts." Hermione's eyes, if at all possible, widened further. _Why?_ She wanted to ask, for the time-being forgetting where she was and that the man in front of her was no longer her teacher but one of her enemies.

Snape smirked, getting exactly the reaction he expected from her. _Some things will never change_, he thought, suddenly feeling a fully unexpected desire to teach once again when this war was over. _If_ it ever was over, he corrected himself, knowing full well that the expected saviour of their world could have easily died earlier that day. "Boomslang skin, Miss Granger," he said aloud, presenting her with his best annoyed glare reserved for the students who clearly didn't apply themselves while having the brains and abilities. "Can you tell me what are the dangers of its prolonged or continuous use?"

Hermione's eyes betrayed her shock. Snape knew what they were doing – and worse yet, he was right that she had completely forgotten the last line on Polyjuice Potion in the _Most Potente Potions_ (a line that was already on the next page dedicated otherwise to the Confusing Draught). "Exactly," Snape nodded, spotting the look and being able to understand her thoughts.

His hand fished once again in his pocket and suddenly, two vials of a yellowish draught were presented to Hermione on his palm. "Miss Granger?" he offered her one of them.

Hermione's eyes uncertainly skipped from his outstretched hand to Harry's bunk and back. Her friend was moaning and was clearly caught in some kind of a nightmare but otherwise, he seemed much better – even the puncture marks had stopped bleeding. She looked at the man, painfully aware that they would have both been dead by now if he wanted them to and finally, slowly and unwillingly, she thought: _"Yes."_

Snape nodded and flicked his wand, freeing her head from the body bind. Hermione moved her neck to get rid of the stiffness she felt there and her eyes hanging on his face, she quietly said: "But the colour is off, Professor."

The man suppressed an urge to laugh. "I am well aware that _your textbook _suggested a slightly different tone of yellow, Miss Granger. Take it or let it be, I don't care." _Not that you need to be aware of it, anyway._

She bit her lips, recalling the book Harry had used the previous year. Finally, she nodded and he freed her left hand while Accioing her wand to him. He handed her over the vial and she swallowed the liquid inside, dreading that she was mistaken after all…

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	3. Lily's Eyes

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures **_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 3: Lily's Eyes **_

_Author's Note:__ Thank you for reviewing and setting up story alerts to this piece. Your continuous support feeds my muse – both in case of this new fic as well as my long-term project 1981. (-: _

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**Motto:**

_"I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe."_

(Severus Snape to Albus Dumbledore, spring 1997, Hogwarts)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 551

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_Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place _

_Early Christmas Day 1997_

The Potion tasted dreadfully but it really didn't harm her. Hermione suppressed a relieved sigh and shot a side-glance at her former teacher. Snape once again loomed over Harry, the man now intently studying Harry's inflamed scar.

"Has Potter been having visions of the Dark Lord of lately, Miss Granger?" Snape asked quietly, unexpectedly, the wizard indifferent only on the surface.

Hermione didn't reply, not really sure if she knew the answer herself. Harry undoubtedly hadn't been blocking the connection that he had to Voldemort and she thought that Snape may feel similar concern as she had been experiencing – assumed the man indeed was on their side. _But what would he be doing here otherwise?_

Snape apparently understood her silence as he didn't repeat the question and sighed. Resigned, he straightened himself and as if for the first time noticing how cold it was in the tent, he ordered: "You don't want Potter to catch a cold, Miss Granger. Extra quilts?" She pointed with her freed hand at a chest in the back of the tent and Snape walked over there and heaped the retrieved three blankets over Harry's shivering form. Once the quilts were in place, Snape aimed his wand at them and cast a warming charm on both them and the air around him.

"That will go for now," he murmured when the temperature had risen. A moment later, his eyes were sharply meeting Hermione's. "I find myself unable to determinate what of your today's ineptitude was caused by Potter's injury and what is your usual Gryffindor stupidity," he sneered and Hermione couldn't help it but smile at the familiarity of his insult.

Snape frowned in reply and continued with a firm order: "Therefore, Miss Granger, if you weren't private with the heating charm before, you will cast the charm _you_ _enjoyed _applying so much in your first year – _on my robes, I may add_ – when I leave. I will not have Potter exposing me to the Dark Lord." _And neither you in that matter_, he added in his mind.

Granger didn't know any Legilimency, he was sure. Still, she nodded at this and quietly asked, her eyes cast down: "If you can, please, do not Obliviate me."

He acknowledged the plea with a non-saying nod. "Potter will need to drink the Potion contracting the overdose on Boomslag skin as soon as the antidote to Nagini's venom wears off," he said indifferently. "I suggest you mix it with his tea – it won't leave an aftertaste if you would."

The girl didn't appear delighted with the order but still she nodded in affirmation.

"Good," Snape said, apparently satisfied for the time-being and took a chair to the other side of Harry's bed. The tent became silent. When nothing happened for the next hour or so, except for Harry moaning in fever and him violently vomiting once – the mess immediately vanished by Snape – Hermione quietly asked: "Why have you done it?"

"Why have I done _what,_ Miss Granger?" Snape looked at her sharply. "Saving Potter's life for an umpteenth time?"

"That," she nodded and in a whisper added: "And Professor Dumbledore's death."

Knowing that he would Obliviate the girl despite the promise he had given her earlier, Snape answered, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose: "That, Miss Granger, believe it or not, was as much a wish of the Dark Lord as Professor Dumbledore himself. I merely held the wand."

Snape said this indifferently, as if he had never stood on the top of the Astronomy Tower that night. Hermione stared at him silently for a while and then burst up, for a while not quite controlling herself: "How can you behave as if nothing has happened? _Do you feel nothing?_ He always stood for you, always defended you…" her voice died out.

_"Did he _really?" Snape quirked up a curious eyebrow. "Interesting that _I_ had _never_ noticed… I am, nonetheless, certain that he was _well aware_ he wouldn't be_ the first_ _friend_ I had killed." He smirked at her open shock, his bad mood dissolving somewhat. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked slyly.

She stared at him, her eyes disbelieving. "Who else?" she whispered.

"You are bright enough," he shot at her, deeply scowling. "If you really want to know, why don't you figure it out yourself?" Their eyes met above Harry's body. She dropped her gaze first and saw that the boy was now drenched in sweat. "Is it normal?" she asked worriedly, for a moment forgetting about their conversation.

Snape too looked at the boy and evaluated his state. "It is," he nodded and gazed back at her, his dislike of Harry momentarily plain in his eyes. _"The Boy-Who-Lived_ will live once again." Snape's voice was so bitter and miserable that Hermione gasped. _Why was Snape there really? And why did he save Harry's life if he hated him like this? … Why had he kept saving his life?_

Harry coughed again in that very moment, his body jerking up and he retching all over himself. To Hermione's utter astonishment, the Professor who so obviously hated Harry, was immediately on his side and not caring about the mess, took hold on Harry's body, holding his head up, so that the boy wouldn't suffocate. When the attack was over, Harry briefly opened his eyes and looked up, the green orbs joining the black gaze of his former Professor. Hermione caught the brief tender expression that run over Snape's face and almost shook her head in disbelief. _Snape despised Harry as he had hated his father – but… Harry's eyes weren't James's; they were Lily's._

"You knew Harry's mother, _you knew Lily,"_ the girl said, not asking.

_"Outstanding,_ Miss Granger. I was sure that you would be able to put it together," Snape nodded and aimed his wand at her.

_Obliviate,_ she saw forming on his lips and despairing, cried: "No! Please! I won't tell Harry!"

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	4. Before the Dawn

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 4: Before the Dawn**_

_Disclaimer/Author's Note:__ Nothing mine. (-:_

_Chapter 4 was betaed by excessivelyperky, one of my most favourite authors out here. Thank you! (((-: _

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**Motto: **

_"A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hands by Hermione."_ (Hermione, who has never before seen how a memory looks like! Has she read all about it as well, I wonder?)

Excerpt taken from J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 528.

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_Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place _

_Early Christmas Day 1997_

Hermione was sitting in the old armchair next to Harry's bunk bed, bemusedly staring at the two vials that were lying on her left hand's palm. She knew that one of them contained the rest of their Dittany Extract supply, and reminded herself to obtain a new stock of the remedy as soon as possible – but the silvery mist that circled in the second flask was a mystery that she wasn't able to solve.

Similarly, she couldn't quite tell why her body felt stiff, as if she had been sitting tightly bound for several hours – and then, there was Harry whose state had unexplainably and unexpectedly greatly improved. The puncture marks left after Nagini's bite were closed by now, though the girl didn't understand how; the forearm, however, was scarred and covered in drying blood, witnessing the horror they had been through.

Then Harry moaned in his fever and Hermione worriedly forced her eyes from the second flask. She looked at Harry's pale, sweaty face and felt a sudden stab of guilt for letting him suffer needlessly. Unthinkingly, Hermione dropped the unknown container in her pocket and opened the familiar vial. She sniffed it to be sure about its contents, and tipped the fluid on the miraculously half-healed wound on her friend. As gently as she could, the girl spread the solution over Harry's new scars, suppressing a sob when her friend gave out a painful yelp.

"It's all right, Harry, you will be all right," Hermione tried to reassure the boy and herself equally. It apparently worked in Harry's case, since the boy calmed. Hermione gave a relieved sigh, summoned a damp piece of cloth and cleaned Harry's arm. "Much better," she mumbled to herself, satisfied; then, with a flick of her wand, she disposed of the soiled cloth and sat back in her armchair.

Harry was still feverish but slept restfully for now and Hermione reached for her beaded bag to retrieve the book she had taken from Bathilda's house. She was sure that Skeeter had written lies in it – but felt curious anyway.

As she bended forward to open the bag, the girl saw in front of her a piece of parchment that had apparently felt on the floor. Inquiringly, she reached for it and instantly frowned at seeing her own handwriting and words she didn't recall writing…

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_Hogwarts' grounds _

_Early Christmas Day 1997_

A very tired and annoyed Severus Snape Apparated right into a mound of heavy wet snow that had drifted around Hogwarts' gate during the night, and swore. He had never really enjoyed Christmas since he had been a very small child, and then again a wide-eyed first year at Hogwarts, but this Yule was clearly working at becoming his worst ever.

Brushing the snow off his clothes and casting drying charms over the skirt of his usual dark robes, Snape berated himself for the idiocy of the previous night. He couldn't believe that he truly let the Granger girl figure out that he and Lily had once been friends and that it was the reason why he had been looking after the bratty, amazingly reckless friend of hers.

Less comprehensible, even, was the fact that he hadn't simply Obliviated the girl and instead – against his better judgment – agreed with a solution she proposed. _Damn! _He swore. _You are growing careless, Severus, and it will get you killed one day._

Snape angrily kicked in the heap of snow in front of him. Then, with a complicated movement of his wand, the acting Headmaster of Hogwarts opened the heavily guarded gate, earning himself a spray of the wet snowflakes that covered the gate's top and entered the school grounds.

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_Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place _

_Early Christmas Day 1997_

The hand that held the mysterious letter dropped to the girl's lap, and the young witch stared into space – her eyes unseeing and her brain bewildered. She had read the letter more times than she had cared to count; she had acknowledged that she had written it – but why and on whose orders? She still didn't have a clue and it greatly disturbed her.

"Oh Harry," she whispered. "I don't know what to do…" But even speaking to her friend about what the letter said was banned by the missive, and Hermione thought she understood why. People who stood by them, as well as some of their enemies (if by odd chance Snape had kept silent) knew about Harry's strange mental connection to Voldemort and his inability to close his mind…

The girl let go of the letter and reached in her pocket. The vial with the unknown substance sparkled on her palm once again. Now, she knew what was inside – but did it change anything? She wouldn't open it anyway. Not when she had forbidden it herself – even if she longed to…

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_Hogwarts_

_Headmaster's Office _

_Early Christmas Day 1997_

"Severus!" Dumbledore's portrait exclaimed in his annoying cheerful way when the Slytherin wizard entered the office. "There you are. … How is Harry?"

Not uttering a word of acknowledgement, Snape simply looked at the old man's portrait with open dislike. Unhurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it over the chair in front of the fireplace so that it could dry. Then he walked towards the window and once there, he let his eyes purposelessly wander across the snow-covered school grounds. For a long time, Dumbledore's question remained without a reply.

"Severus?" Dumbledore admonished when the silence stretched too long.

_"The reckless brat_ is as well as you can expect," Snape said quietly, his voice indifferent and his back remaining turned to his predecessor in the Headmaster's stool.

"Now, Severus, this is not necessary," Dumbledore said with a slight frown. "If you want me to believe that you care for Harry's well-being more than I did, you may as well behave as the best friend of the boy's mother who you claim to have been…"

Snape turned angrily on his heels. His eyes flashing daggers, his voice dripping poison, he said in a dangerous, quiet voice: _"Fortunately,_ my relationship with Lily is no longer any of your business, Dumbledore. I ask you to accept _this minor detail_ if you want me to follow up with _your plans_."

The man in the portrait looked intently at his one-time employee, and knowing the younger man as he did, Dumbledore gave Snape a reluctant nod.

"Then we are agreed." Snape noted unnecessarily, and walked to the stairs leading to the bedroom adjoining the office.

The portrait coughed and Snape halted. Irritated, the dark wizard asked, not turning: "What else?"

"Harry has to be given the sword, Severus. Detest me as you wish to but promise me that you deliver it to him – _no matter what the situation_ – when Phineas brings us information of Harry's location again."

Snape smirked. _I have already planned for that, old man,_ he thought. Aloud he asked only: "And when will you inform me what the boy needs the Gryffindor artifact for?"

"I hoped that this matter had been resolved," Dumbledore frowned behind Snape's back.

"Was it?" Snape asked quietly and moved towards the stairs.

Dumbledore sighed in slight resignation, but right before the younger man could disappear behind the doorway, he pressed anew: "Severus! This is not a time, nor a place for being difficult… Will you promise it to me?"

Snape stopped, for a while quiet. Then, still turned, the dark man shook his head in angry disbelief. "You _know very well_ that I will do it," he said to the old man in low voice and deserted the room.

"Now, I do," Dumbledore's portrait said quietly. "Sleep well, my boy," he whispered to the empty room then, knowing that Snape wouldn't believe his wishes genuine even if he had heard them.

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_A/N 2: I am trying to keep this as canon compliant as possible for now. However, I find myself unable to write Dumbledore as the uncaring bastard he was (towards Snape at least) in book 7 – sorry for that._

_Thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	5. Waking from a Nightmare

**_Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures_**

**_by Iva1201_**

**_Chapter 5: Waking from a Nightmare_**

_A/N: Betaed by JamesLuver - thank you! (-: As always, nothing mine. ENJOY!_

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**Motto:**

_"And I've been... what, unconscious?" - "Not exactly," said Hermione. "You've been shouting and moaning and... things..."_

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 283

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_Hermione Granger's and Harry Potter's hiding place_

_Early Christmas Day 1997 _

Hermione was still perplexed with the mysterious missive and the memory vial when Harry started to painfully groan on his bunk bed. Worried, the girl unconsciously tucked the piece of parchment in her pocket and bent over her friend. Harry's forehead was drenched in sweat now and Hermione felt a new wave of panic coming over her. "Hurts," Harry moaned in his state of unconsciousness, his features twitching in pain and Hermione felt her eyes filled with tears and the moisture started to run down her cheeks. Angrily, she swept the tears off with the back of her hand. _I have to help now, not make things worse,_ she thought, determined not to fail Harry now.

The girl forced herself to order her thoughts and since the first things ought to be dealt with first, she flicked her wand and conjured a small, soft sponge out of the thin air and began to dry Harry's face. Still unconscious, the boy started to laugh at that moment – an evil, unearthly sound, however quiet – and Hermione's eyes immediately fell to his chest. There, beneath Harry's sweaty T-shirt, Hermione knew was the Horcrux, and it occurred to her then how the pendant influenced them all – influenced Ron. _She was not going to lose another friend to the damned thing,_ she thought furiously and pulled Harry's T-shirt up. The Horcrux was stuck to Harry's chest when she tried to take it off and Hermione didn't hesitate and drew her wand to get the evil thing off her friend.

"Secerno!" she incanted resolutely and expertly moved her wand around the edges of the ancient metal. For a while, nothing obvious happened; then, finally, the locket slid to the side and Harry's bare skin showed, revealing a dark red oval mark where the locket had rested before. Hermione grabbed the Horcrux before it could fall to the ground and hid it in her beaded bag; allowing herself a little sigh of relief when it was accomplished.

But apparently, to take the Horcrux of Harry's chest was not enough. Harry again laughed, more evilly than before, and hissed, his voice strangely disappointed: "So easy... _Too easy!"_ Her friend was still speaking in human voice but Hermione thought that the sound was not far from Parseltongue now and felt the panic anew rising in her chest.

Then, suddenly, Harry sat up, his eyes still closed. The well-known Phoenix-corded wand appeared in the boy's hand and Harry aimed it, obviously completely unaware of his actions, directly at Hermione's chest. "Avada..." Hermione saw forming on his lips and before the shock took completely over her, she somehow managed to catch Harry's hand and force it together with the deadly wand to the side. "...Kedavra," Harry finished and a stream of the terrible green light illuminated the tent, boring a small circular hole in the canvas wall where it reached it. Hermione stared at the light of death, disgusted and yet fascinated despite her.

The wand, infused by the force of the killing curse, fell from Harry's hand then and hit the ground. Probably already damaged from Bathilda's house, the wood broke and Hermione stared at the wreckage in a new shock. "No, _oh no,"_ was all she was able to think, painfully aware of how much Harry loved the wand. "I am _so sorry,_ Harry!" she whispered, tears rolling out of her eyes.

The boy started muttering in answer and Hermione knew he was still trapped in his vision or nightmare or whatever it was. "Stand aside, stand aside... _Stand aside,_ you silly girl!" her friend was repeating in the same, emotionless voice he had used before and once again, Hermione heard the words of the killing curse. To her great relief, Harry, this time wandless, now only harmlessly moved his hand to accompany the words.

Hermione shuddered then, suddenly thinking she knew what Harry was witnessing in his fever dream. She couldn't stop her tears anymore when the boy went from his previous mimicking Voldemort to mirroring his own baby cries. He had to be seeing Godric's Hollow that unfortunate night more than fifteen years ago and reliving everything that had happened there back then. Hermione couldn't quite imagine the horror of it.

And then, there was the pained expression again and tears running down Harry's cheeks and the boy groaning: "No, no, no..." and finally, disappointed: "I dropped it... I dropped it..." Sometimes in between, Hermione started to shake Harry's shoulders, not having the stomach to witness her friend's suffering any longer. "Harry, it's all right, you're all right!" She heard herself speaking from far away and then found herself crying, feeling quite desperately: "Harry, it's OK, wake up, wake up!"

An endless moment later, the well-known green eyes were looking at her, finally aware, and Hermione came back to herself. "Harry," she whispered, "Do you feel all – all right?"

When he replied "Yes," she knew he was lying. Forcefully, she swallowed her tears and tried to smile at him.

"We got away," Harry said, surprised and she nodded her yes and started to explain, somehow managing to stay reasonably calm. But then he saw his severed wand and pleaded with her to repair it – and Hermione knew that she couldn't mend it and that it was her fault the wand had been broken.

"Harry, I am so, _so_ sorry," she found herself saying, refusing to tell him what he had almost done while unconscious. "I think it was me," she admitted quietly and then she lied that it was the Blasting Curse that broke the holly and phoenix-feather Ollivander's work because she couldn't bear it to tell him the truth.

Hermione fully understood when Harry stumbled out of his bed and her sight to mourn privately then – but it hurt her nevertheless. In her total exhaustion, the girl silently cried, for whatever reason maintaining her previous place by Harry's, now vacated, bed...

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_A/N: That was heretic, I know. But it makes sense, __doesn't it?_


	6. Secrets

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 6: Secrets**_

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_A/N: Betaed by JamesLuver. Thanks a lot!_

**Motto: **

_"'Harry?' – Hermione looked frightened that he might curse her with her own wand. Her face streaked with tears, she crouched down beside him, two cups of tea trembling in her hands and something bulky under her arm."_

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 287

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_Hermione Granger's and Harry Potter's hiding place_

_Christmas Day 1997_

_"Hermione, remember that some secrets are better to remain such until they no longer bear the power to harm those whom they were meant to protect. Keep the memory vial you will find on yourself safely hidden until the war is over or you are really desperate for help._

_The person who saved Harry's life tonight may die otherwise – as it may die when Harry can't protect the secret of its existence. For the good of us all, don't tell Harry that the person visited you unless he learns how to close his mind. Also, since you have forgotten that the potion you first brewed in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom in your second year becomes poisonous with lengthier use, make Harry take the antidote for it from the second vial. It dissolves without leaving any aftertaste in simple sugared tea._

_Finally, let me assure you that this missive indeed wrote the daughter of two Australians. When you move somewhere more sheltered, remember the place you went camping with them when your life was still an ordinary one."_

Unable to sleep, Hermione once again turned the parchment with the note in her hand, not really knowing if she was able to do to Harry what the letter suggested.

She was quite sure that the vial she had found on the floor, where the missive had laid before, truly contained antidote to Boomslang skin and suspected that she had had her own helping earlier that night but she simply couldn't be sure and after the horrific night in Godric's Hollow, she was terrified and unwilling to take any more unnecessary risks.

Still undecided, utterly exhausted both physically and mentally and feeling absolutely alone and lost, Hermione stumbled out of her chair and to the kitchenette in the tent's back. There she started to prepare tea, calming her rough nerves with the simple activity. _Oh Harry,_ she thought while she divided the tealeaves in their accustomed mugs and poured the boiling water over them, _I am so sorry to keep secrets from you – so very, very sorry. Please, don't think I would ever betray you! Please, don't do it to me. Not now, Harry … Not when you are _all_ I have left._

The tea was ready then and Hermione sighed deeply and with an unusual hesitation, retrieved the vial with the potion from her pocket. One last time she eyed the yellowish liquid inside. The solution appeared fairly strong _– if it really was what she thought – _and Hermione reminded herself with a bit of dread that the simple antidote might not be working for them for much longer. Five to six months of continuous use, if she remembered correctly now – and then, unless the antidote was taken, St. Mungo's. _Did she have a choice at all then?_ She shook her head slowly. _No, not really._

Determined now, Hermione opened the vial, sniffed the potion and then, carefully, tipped a drop of the liquid on the top of her tongue. The potion was distasteful as it was supposed to but otherwise seemed to be all right; still, she waited a couple of minutes to be absolutely sure. When nothing happened, Hermione grabbed Harry's mug and resolutely turned the vial into it. The potion dissolved a few moments later and she banished the vial and reached for sugar – only barely halting herself before dropping the bowl into the tea as well.

Her hands trembling slightly, the girl took the mugs then and went to find Harry. She was almost by the tent's entrance when she recalled the book she wanted to show the boy – and set the mugs aside to return for it.

Next, equipped with both the supply of the sweet, hot liquid and Rita Skeeter's rubbish – as she was sure – Hermione made her way outside into the frosty morning. She hoped that Harry was less angry with her now… and prayed he wouldn't refuse or – Merlin forbid! – question the tea.

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_Hogwarts_

_Headmaster's Office_

_Christmas Day 1997_

Severus Snape woke to a pleasant quiet of his office – for which he was deeply grateful – and an unusual emptiness of the castle he was obliged to feel as the current head of the school. The absence of the students and the majority of the teachers quite unexpectedly unsettled him and he stared in the black depths of his coffee, unable to fathom the strange feeling. _Had it something to do with the fact he used to consider the school – with everything that belonged to it – his home rather than the battered house at Spinner's End?_ He couldn't be sure… yet it was a possibility. _But then – to miss the brats and the noise they were able to produce?_ _Never!_

His thoughts – as so many times before in the recent months – unwillingly wandered to the golden trio then. _Would Granger follow his directions?_ he wondered. _She seemed capable of doing so – although, was the missive he had left with her enough to persuade her? He had tossed the parchment and quill at her back in their tent and commanded that she wrote something her future self would think credible. But… _did she_ actually _believe him_ by that point?_

He had read the letter and had to acknowledge that it was cleverly written – still, that didn't guarantee the girl would follow her own instruction. Unlike his dozing predecessor, now merely an annoying portrait hanging above his desk, Snape refused to take anything for granted. Life was everything else than that in his opinion. If it would be otherwise, Minerva would now be sitting in this office and he wouldn't have to spend all those long hours cautiously restraining the Carrows from overusing the Unforgivables on the students and pacifying the hungry crowd of Dementors the Dark Lord insisted to position at the school entrances.

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_Hogwarts_

_Headmaster's Office_

_26th December 1997_

Panting for breath, Phineas Nigellus Black returned to his portrait and with a triumphant gleam in his eyes announced to Snape, who was by then already impatiently pacing the room: "Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood -"

Snape abruptly turned and spat at him in sudden fury: _"Do not use that word!"_ and Phineas hastily nodded: _"- the Granger girl, then,_ mentioned the place as she opened her bag and I heard her!"

Turning away from both Phineas Black and Dumbledore, Snape breathed in relief; Granger had held her word then. He didn't know how else he would have been able to give the boy the sword of Godric Gryffindor under the circumstances Dumbledore's portrait deemed so crucial.

Briefly entering the girl's mind before he had left her to take care of Potter on her own, Snape had seen a clearing beneath of an ancient oak tree where he supposed the children had built their tent now as well as a small pool close to it that was so ideal for his plan. But there was absolutely no need to share this all with Dumbledore; the man – _no, portrait!_ – was fairly insufferable as it was.

"And you still aren't going to tell me why it's so important to give Potter the sword?" Snape asked after he had retrieved the antiquate weapon, giving the old man one last chance to share his secrets with him.

When Dumbledore's portrait replied: "No, I don't think so." Snape nodded to himself. If the old man was unwilling to trust him, he was keeping his own secrets. He turned to the door, his travelling cloak over his robes now.

_"Don't worry,_ Dumbledore," he said, making his voice icy. "I have a plan."

_There, old man, this has to suffice you._ Snape smirked and loudly closed the door behind him.

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	7. The Silver Doe

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

**_Chapter 7: The Silver Doe_**

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**Motto:**

_"I've been looking for you for hours, it's a big forest, isn't it? And I was just thinking I'd have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming, and you following."_

(Ron Weasley to Harry Potter, Christmas Day 1997, Forest of Dean)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 303

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_Forest of Dean_

_Christmas Day 1997_

_Such a stupid waste of time,_ Snape swore under his breath, desiring nothing else than to kick something really hard or – even better – hex someone into oblivion. Remote place, ideal for his plan – _indeed._ And what about the horde wandering the forest, shouting as if it burnt? Snape admittedly couldn't make the words but whoever cried them was a potential danger – and the man was unwilling to proceed with his plan unless he knew what was happening and in ideal case also disposed of the threat…

It had been hours ago that he had Apparated into the forest and had safely found both the pool from Granger's memories as well as the clearing the two teenagers were camping at – the later only thanks to the mild tracking charm he had set on Potter the day before. Now, when the boy was not in a life danger, the tent was really invisible to him, no matter what standard point-me-to charms he had tried. Even now, after hours he had spent uncomfortably huddled in the evergreen bushes on the edge of the clearing, he couldn't tell where exactly the tent stood – the tracking charm he had used selected so that Granger would possibly not notice it and consequently quite weak. For Snape's purposes, however, it was fully sufficient – if he succeeded with the delivery of the sword tonight, he may be lucky enough to avoid Potter's company until short before the boy's final encounter with the Dark Lord._ If only the intruders disappeared fast – or moved closer to him so that he could deal with them while still keeping an eye on Potter's hideout! _

The shouts advanced then, interrupting Snape's musings; this time it seemed to the Slytherin that they were clearer and a moment later he could even decipher the words – instantly sighing in relief. _Ronald Weasley;_ _soon the golden trio would be reunited,_ he thought, slightly disgusted with the prospect and yet, satisfied that they were again coming together, the team Granger-Weasley hopefully sparing him any further save-Potter-actions.

"Harry, Hermione! Where are you guys? It's Ron…" Weasley passed the clearing without either of his friends noticing and Snape shook his head in silent disbelief. Had they broken up so badly that Potter and Granger didn't leave the red-hair any means how to find his way back to them? Very Potter-like; the boy was clearly becoming as arrogant as his dear father and Black. If only Dumbledore could see his sacred Gryffindors now! Wouldn't it be quite a shock for the old man to see _how impure_ they were after all? Snape smirked, rising to his feet. If he would be in generous mood once he returned to the castle, he may share his opinion with the unbearable painting. But for now he had a job to finish.

Snape drew out his wand and pointing it at himself, cast the charm of invisibility he had adopted from Dumbledore. If he had gained nothing else from this charade, his magic had matured much sooner than he could have hoped for had he lived a normal life. Although, he kept asking himself if it had any sense – when his chances to survive the war were as little as they were and when he actually didn't know if he wanted to survive it at all.

Protected by the charm, Snape slowly circled round the clearing, trying to better locate the tent and Potter inside. When he remained unsuccessful, he once again found himself a hideout in the bushes on the edge of the clearing. Canceling the invisibility, Snape resigned himself for another long wait. Unlike the teenagers, Weasley especially, he was thankfully comfortably warm in his enchanted robes and when he now knew his wait wasn't meaningless, he was willing to give Potter some more time.

As he waited, his back leaned on a trunk of an ancient oak tree, the snow started to drift from the skies again and soon, the clearing was covered with fresh white dusting. This was excellent – for if Potter would even for a second step out of the boundaries of Granger's protective spells, Snape would be able to see the marks he would leave on the ground even if the boy wore his father's invisibility cloak – provided Potter had remained as careless as ever. Somehow, Snape didn't doubt it. _What he was also to think of a boy who had willingly lingered in the Dark Lord's mind?_

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Snape wasn't sure if he hadn't drifted off for a moment when a sudden sound in the dark depths of the forest made him jerk up, instantly alert. His eyes searched the clearing for an umpteenth time that night – his seek once again unsuccessful, and he readied his wand to search for Potter magically. Since several hours now, it had seemed to him as if the response to his charm had become more intense – Potter was probably sitting in the mouth of the tent. Snape hoped so at least – but there was no telling that it wasn't the girl accidentally leaving the entry of the tent half-open behind her back. Unprepared for the possibility of Granger following his call, Snape hadn't acted yet – but he was aware that there wasn't much time remaining.

Then, suddenly and fully unexpected, it happened – Potter must have reached forward, beyond the boundaries of the spells and Snape's wand confirmed it was he sitting in front of the tent. A small, self-satisfied smile appeared on Snape's thin lips and he summoned his happy thought – Lily forgiving him – and cast a silent _Expecto Patronum._

Instantly, Lily's silver doe materialized in front of him. Approaching him slowly, she bowed her gorgeous head to lick his hand in an act of undeserved compassion – or so Snape thought. He didn't deserve her affection – and yet, when he ordered her to lead the boy to the pool wherein the sword laid hidden and she turned to walk away from him, he couldn't quite help it but miss her right away; her disappearance leaving him strangely empty.

It took Snape a few long moments to compose himself again. When he finally followed the doe, Potter was already on his way behind her – exactly as Snape had planned. _Simply excellent,_ the man thought sardonically, troubled despite himself, despite he so desperately needed his plan to be successful; _if even the Christmas night hadn't taught the boy any caution, then we are all doomed._

Staying as far away from the boy as he could while still being able to view what was happening, Snape followed Potter to the frozen pond, trying to convince himself that the boy that had been prophesied to triumph over the Dark Lord _perhaps_ didn't really need the discipline and vigilance they had tried to hammer in him – and failing miserably. For the boy, while successfully finding the pool and clearly understanding the need to retrieve the sword under Dumbledore's conditions of need and valour, decided to dive for it with an obviously dark artifact hanging around his neck.

Quite close to the boy now, twin massive oak trunks concealing him from Potter's view, Snape groaned as he saw the chain of a locket or medal or whatever it was resting on Potter's chest tightening around the boy's slender neck, so that he started to suffocate. _Damn, damn, damn!_ _The day was not only going to be an utter waste of time – it was also threatening to become Severus's undoing. If he hasted to save Potter's life for yet another time, the boy would certainly recognize him – and either attack Snape himself (whereas Snape couldn't very well fight him, if he wanted not to accidentally kill the boy in rage Potter was so very likely to awake in him) or reveal his true alliances to the Dark Lord through the abominable connection the two other wizards shared._ Snape groaned, running a hand over his suddenly weary face. _Why the hell did he think his plan was just about flawless?_

The boy was trashing, suffocating, desperately trying to get rid of the chain that had closed tight around his neck – and Snape finally got to his feet, hasting forward, in the last second remembering to recast the invisibility charm and whisper the incantation that made the imprints of his feet disappear behind him.

He almost reached the pond when a familiar red head flashed past him and a panting Ronald Weasley jumped fully clothed in the ice-cold pool and got hold on Potter, pulling the unconscious savior-to-be out of the hole in the ice surface of the pool and behind him also the sword of Godric Gryffindor. _Wrong man to pull it out,_ Snape frowned from where he was watching nearby, but then remembered that the conditions were more than fulfilled. He was about to Apparate away when Weasley berated the golden boy and Snape decided he had more than earned this little amusement.

"Are – you – _mental?"_ The Weasley boy panted at Potter's careless offspring from above, water dripping from his drenched clothes, one hand holding the sword and the mysterious broken collar swaying in the other. Potter looked up at the sound of his voice, clearly startled, but instead of grinning stupidly as Snape had expected, he simply rose, remaining quiet – him wearing only underwear a strange sight in the frosty, snow covered night landscape.

"Why the _hell,"_ Weasley continued, a deep frown on his face, "didn't you take this thing off before you dived?" _Yes, why indeed,_ Snape thought, glad now for having stayed. But Potter remained mute as long as he pulled on his clothes. When he finally spoke, he asked his own question instead of answering.

"It was y – you?" Potter's teeth chattered.

"Well, yeah," Weasley nodded, appearing quite confused to his former Professor.

"Y – you cast that doe?" Potter stammered and Snape smirked. _Weasley, indeed. Grow up, Potter, where would Weasley come to the sword?_

"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!" Snape shook his head. Weasley was as careless as Potter.

"My Patronus is a stag." Potter said and Weasley nodded: "Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers." Snape had to bit his lip to stop the bitter laugher threatening to overcome him. _No antlers, really._ _The two were helpless._

For the minor chance, either of the boys would mention the strange collar again, the man remained in his spot but as the conversation centred on the sword, he was rapidly loosing hope to hear anything more of importance. Then, however, Potter claimed that there was only one way how to find out if the sword was the real one – and motioned to a rock on the other side of the pool on which they placed the puzzling item. "I am going to open it," Potter said, "and you stab it. Straight away, OK? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. _The bit of Riddle_ in the diary tried to kill me…"

Snape didn't listen any further, nor did he really watch what was happening before him. He only stood frozen on his feet, his mind racing. _A diary that had tried to kill Potter _– the bit of Riddle in it –_ Dumbledore's injury from the previous year – the cursed ring the old man had so foolishly put on – the chain closing around Potter's neck, attempting to suffocate the boy – Potter's scar – the time to come when the Dark Lord would fear for his snake… _

Suddenly, it all made sense; the Dark Lord had created more vessels for his rotten soul. Dumbledore must have found out about their existence – and train his golden boy to destroy them and himself in the process. Snape trembled with sudden rage – the arrogant Potter's son changed in Lily's boy again, in _the pig for slaughter_ Dumbledore had raised so carefully to conclude his plans. – Or had he? When the boy's inability to keep his thoughts for himself would sooner or later alert the Dark Lord on what was happening?

Snape angrily kicked in the heap of snow in front of him, by a lucky chance remaining unnoticed by the teenagers who were still occupied with the locket. If his predecessor in the Headmaster's chair thought his plan perfect, then Snape didn't agree with him. _Not at all._ Unhappy about the prospect but conscious of the necessity, Snape resolved to add his bit into Potter's training. This time he would be successful, or damn both him and the boy!

ooooo

Snape spent another half an hour watching as Potter and Weasley attempted to destroy the locket, more than once sorely tempted to step in and either shake some sense in both the boys or get rid of the cursed thing by some safer means. But he felt that Dumbledore probably had well known what he had been doing, leaving the Gryffindor's sword to the boy.

Finally, Weasley won his inner fight and stabbed the dark artifact with the ancient weapon – and Snape viewed next the reconciliation of the two friends, sickened by the sentiment they exchanged. When they left together, he followed them from safe distance, adding a sound-proof charm to his protections.

Soon, the man was back on the edge of the clearing where Potter's tent stood – contemplating his next course of action. The teenagers were inside their shelter now but there was no doubt that one of them would guard the tent's entry during the night as Potter had done before. Considering the exchange by the pool, it was very likely that Potter would leave Weasley and Granger some space to make up – and if he did come out, Snape would get hold on him.

It didn't take long this time and the tracking charm alerted Snape that the boy was out of the shelter. Quietly, the man approached closer to where he now knew the tent stood – and caught Potter on his collar the moment he, foolishly reassured by the recent success, stepped out of Miss Granger's defenses to gaze at the snow-covered landscape. Harry's gaze searched for his capturer over his shoulder - his eyes widening in dread as they found Snape.

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_A/N: As you surely can tell yourself, some of this chapter was taken directly from DH, chapter 19 (The Silver Doe). Hope you have enjoyed my changes. (-: Looking forward to your comments. (((-: _


	8. The Leaky Cauldron

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 8: The Leaky Cauldron**_

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_A/N: Betaed by excessivelyperky. __Thank you!_

_Motto of the chapter will be added later. _

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_Forest of Dean, Hogwarts_

_Late Christmas 1997_

Two expert flicks of his wand and two silently cast incantations – one of them Expelliarmus, the second a laming hex unknown to Harry – were all it took Snape to disarm and disable the boy. With fury burning in his eyes, Harry opened his mouth to call for Ron and Hermione to help him – hating Snape even more for humiliating him like this. Before he could utter a single sound, the greasy git grabbed him firmly on his collar and pulled him close, harshly forcing the boy's lips shut. Disarmed, lamed by Snape's hex and muted by the man's hand, Harry was powerless. With a painful groan of defeat, the boy closed his eyes. _Not Snape, not him again,_ he wished desperately and like a mantra repeated to himself: _Not now, not now, not when we finally started to be lucky._ The silver doe coming to him seemed like a lie now; the broken Horcrux was a joke in the sight of the undiscovered rest of the Dark Lord's soul vessels.

Then Harry felt how Snape Apparated them away. _So this is how it ends, _the boy thought bitterly, bracing himself for the inevitable encounter with Voldemort and his minions. _What now? _He felt himself panic. _What would Dumbledore want me to do? _But the old man was dead and Harry's luck seemed to have expired – he had lost the protection of the twin cores as he had lost his last and biggest protector thank to the very same man who held him captured now. Snape, no _Snivellus_, was the source of everything that went wrong in his life – he as good as killed his parents, ridiculed Harry for years, sabotaged his potions, forced Lupin to leave Hogwarts, failed to teach Harry Occlumency and hence lured Sirius to the Department of Mysteries and to his death, and on top of everything else, assassinated Dumbledore who had never wanted to hear a word against him…

_Hell, why has it to be Snape again and again? Why does it have to be him who will deliver me to Voldemort? _Harry's head hurt and he wished himself dead.

But Snape seemed to have other plans. With a quiet pop, the man Apparated them to a much different place than Harry had expected. When the boy cautiously reopened his eyes, it was to the brightness of Dumbledore's circular office and the unbelievably angry voice of its, sadly past, owner.

"_Severus Snape!"_ Dumbledore's voice bellowed from behind Snape's back. Harry couldn't see the source of the sound, but knew that it had to be the old Headmaster's portrait that spoke – the portrait that he had previously seen only inanimate. It hit him then that the dark wizard who had him still imprisoned in his arms held the Hogwarts' head position now, and he shuddered with protest against the man's strength.

"You swore to me not to breach the safety of this school, young man!" Dumbledore's portrait berated Snape. Harry had to smile in satisfaction, despite his own unfortunate situation. _It would be only just if Snape couldn't silence his predecessor's painting,_ the boy thought, recalling the unstoppable, hateful screams of Sirius's mother's. Harry found himself hoping that Dumbledore's portrait held the recollection of the old man's death and that it reminded Snape of his crimes whenever the Death Eater was present in the office...

"Voldemort _cannot know_ that Hogwarts accepts you as its Head, Severus!" the old wizard continued, by the sound of his voice still greatly displeased. "I _won't_ have him Apparate here and back with the ease you did just now!"

_What the hell does _that _mean?_ Harry wondered at the lecture, still hidden from Dumbledore's gaze.

"I have my own reasons not to share this particular information with him, Dumbledore," Snape said calmly, partly letting go of a very bewildered Harry. Not wasting a single moment, the boy jumped away from the man as far as the laming hex allowed him. Dumbledore had to see him over Snape's shoulder, then, as the former Headmaster again spoke to the man with deep disagreement.

"You _didn't _bring the boy along with you, Severus!" The painted wizard shouted, his face quite angry. "_What _have you been thinking in Merlin's name? Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Quite the contrary, Dumbledore," Snape smirked, not even partly losing his composed manner. "I would rather say that I have finally come to my senses."

Dumbledore's clear blue eyes flashed with rage Harry had never seen in them before. "We have an agreement, Severus Snape, and if you _ever_ had _any_ honour you will not break it!"

"I am not sure if I would call it _agreement,"_ Snape observed quietly, stepping closer to the portrait with Harry forcefully following on his toe. "Rather manipulation… or perhaps even _misuse…"_ the dark wizard finished in a whisper, his eyes intently staring at Dumbledore's face. "You said that you _didn't want to put_ _all of your secrets in one basket – and particularly not a basket that spent so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort_." Snape smirked at the clearly startled old man. "Oh yes, I remember this wisdom of yours by heart, Dumbledore. It was _a most enlightening_ session that particular evening after all… My question, nonetheless_,_ is _just how_ you want to explain that you preferred to entrust your _biggest secrets_ to this – for the lack of better words – _leaky cauldron?"_ Snape ruthlessly pushed Harry forward, right in front of the portrait.

Not sparing even a single glimpse at Harry's confused face, Dumbledore's portrait continued to eye his one-time employee with growing displeasure. _"I trust_ we spoke about this issue _often enough_ in the past, Severus! If Harry's inability to close his mind is what concerns you so much, I fail to understand why you felt it necessary to bring the boy here. Or has Lord Voldemort's resolution not to venture into Harry's mind changed lately?"

Unhappy and perplexed, Harry was looking from one older wizard to the other. Once again, people were discussing him and apparently making decisions about his life without as much as asking for his consent. Worse even was that Dumbledore, _the man Harry had trusted so much, _clearly didn't care for him – so Rita Skeeter was right, no matter what Hermione had said. And Snape – _what was the meaning of all this?_ _Was the man somehow still working for Dumbledore?_ That didn't make sense, absolutely no sense at all. Harry shook his head.

"No," Snape was replying to Dumbledore right then, "the Dark Lord is still reluctant to reopen the connection. _But,"_ his words were extremely cautious now, as if the man wasn't saying all that he knew, "during Christmas night, he seems to had a glimpse into Potter's mind. I overheard him speaking to Bellatrix about some sort of a connected dream…" Snape shot a meaningful glare at Harry and the boy shuddered under the man's grip. _Voldemort and he had shared the strange recollection of Harry's parents' death? Merlin, no, not again! _

Apparently, he missed part of the conversation with his musings. Snape was practically shouting at Dumbledore now. "Can you explain me _why_ you have never seen it fit to inform me that there was more than one vessel carrying the Dark Lord's soul?" the man cried at the portrait and Harry jumped up in shock. Seeing the movement and Harry's bewildered face from the corner of his eye, Snape unhappily chuckled to crown the day.

"Have you seen the boy just now, Dumbledore?" he said sarcastically. "_The leaky cauldron_ gives away your deepest secrets with ease _even I_ didn't think possible by now… Forgive me if I refuse to lose all my hard work over the boy who in the half a year since his departure from Hogwarts hasn't found the time to _at least_ learn to cast wordlessly…"

With a smile Harry would describe as unmistakably evil, Snape calmly announced, "This all considered, I am stepping back from our _agreement_. From now on, hence, I will deal with Potter as I – a_nd not you, Dumbledore _– will see it fit... The first rule of yours I shall break is not to harm _your precious_ Potter while teaching him."

Snape barked a laugher at Dumbledore's open shock. "I wonder why I was under the impression that you no longer cared for the boy except for him being your best weapon... But then, you are a skilled actor, aren't you? Come, Potter," he dragged Harry again behind him, away from the portrait, "let us show the old man that not all our lessons are predestined to become a failure." With that said, Snape had them Disapparate from the room.

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_Enjoyed? __Please, review. (-:_


	9. Unforgivable

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 9****: Unforgivable**

_A/N: Big thank you to excessivelyperky for betaing this. Enjoy!_

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_Hogwarts, Room of Requirement_

_Late Christmas 1997_

When Snape's arms pressed Harry again tightly to his tall, emaciated body and the two of them Disapparated, Harry panicked once more. _Was this what Snape planned? To hurt both him and the old wizard, or rather his portrait?_ It sounded evil enough and Harry was fully prepared to believe the idea. If – if only they resurfaced somewhere else. But what was Harry to make of this? As he took in their new environment, his mouth fell in surprise.

"Oh yes, Potter, _the Room of Requirement,"_ Snape quietly confirmed that they had indeed Apparated to the corridor Harry knew so well. Then, the git of a _Professor_ added with a positively evil smirk: "I don't have the time to deal with you otherwise."

Not bothering to explain any further, Snape forcefully moved the boy towards the door to the Room, hidden in the wall. "Now, Potter, we have to wish for the same thing or the Room will not let us in. I am sure you are _well aware_ of this, seeing how much time you have already spent inside," Snape said, his eyes glaring at Harry's face. The boy didn't disappoint him. His expression once again became an open book, and the Potions Master could easily read the surprise taking over it.

Harry could have sworn that the man's dark eyes sparkled in slight amusement—well, if it hadn't been Snape. As it was, the boy dismissed the thought rather quickly and schooled his features, hoping for a mask similar to the one he was used to see on Snape's face. Now, it was unmistakable. Irrationally as it was, Snape looked amused.

A moment later, Harry was certain his eyes had fooled him – as he'd seen so many times before, Snape was sneering at him. With poorly hidden disgust, the man informed him: "I knew there was no chance that you would be cooperative in this matter. Therefore, _Mr._ Potter, let us start your _today's lesson_ right here."

Snape took a small step back from the still partly paralyzed teenager and quirked up an eyebrow at the protest in the boy's eyes.

_F__at chance that I'm going to help you torture me, Snape,_ Harry thought furiously.

Snape answered by drawing his wand. "I _fear_ you have no other choice than to follow me in this, Potter. But – _believe it or not _– for what it's worth, _I am sorry_ for using this particular curse on our _boy hero,"_ Snape aimed his wand at Potter's face.

Harry's eyes widened with dread. He had absolutely no clue as to what Snape intended and he really didn't like the hopeless feeling spreading out in his veins. Rightfully so, as Snape proved by casting an Unforgivable on him.

"_Imperio!"_ Snape said coldly, his eyes firmly focused on the boy's face. Harry felt the wild turmoil of thoughts and worries in his mind cease, to give way to a welcome peaceful warmth. For the shortest while, he let his mind drift in this peace; his body obediently following Snape in pacing in front of the Room and his mind repeating the man's words: _We need more time, we need more time, we need more time._

Then, finally, Harry thought that this couldn't be right and threw Snape's curse off – sadly, too late. When he reopened his eyes, he saw that Snape had managed what he had set himself to. They were in the Room which was this time around equipped like a rather spartan classroom – or so Harry thought_, _"No!" he groaned, while shaking his head to clear it.

"Why, Potter, _yes._ Even you are not skilled enough to throw the curse off on the spot." Snape smirked at Harry's discomfort. "On the other hand," the man continued with an unpleasant, dark chuckle, "it's rather impressive that you can throw it off at all when you are, _as we both know all too well,_ so abominable in Occlumency." The older wizard paused and ruthlessly shoved Harry to the centre of the Room. There, Harry noticed, a golden chain with a small sand clock at its end lay on one of the desks. _Time-turner,_ Harry thought with alarm, and looked at Snape. _Weren't they all destroyed in the Department of Mysteries last year?_

Snape had a dangerous smile playing around his lips. "I see that you have _recognized_ what we have come here for, Potter," he said, his voice apparently indifferent, but clearly knowing that Harry had used the device in the past and not approving of it. Harry shuddered; with apprehension, he recalled the end of his third year and Snape's involvement in it.

His dread must have presented itself on his face as Snape quietly laughed. Harry shot him a rebellious, and yet guilty, look. Back then, Snape had been their teacher and they had ruthlessly knocked him out, not giving a damn about the consequences – well, all except Hermione. _Was the man up to some act of his own, private vengeance before he hands me over to Voldemort?_ Bathed in cold sweat, Harry – still unable to freely move and defend himself – watched as Snape reached for the chain.

Snape caressed the Time-Turner with his thin fingers and then, looking back at Harry, smirked: "Oh yes, Potter, I am quite aware of your and Miss Granger's _little adventure_ back in your third year... Be assured that _this time_ you will be using the device not only with_ your Headmaster's_ assent but, _moreover,_ under his _personal supervision._ Only Gryffindors can be reckless enough to let children play with such dangerous toys otherwise," the man finished in a cold voice and hold the Time-Turner in front of Harry's eyes. "So, Potter, what will be it – the easy or the hard way?"

When Harry stared at him with his well-known resolve not to follow his orders, Snape shook his head with another bark of harsh laughter. "My, my, Potter, aren't you making this entirely too difficult for yourself?" With swiftness Harry didn't think possible, Snape had his wand once again pointed at Harry's forehead. "Imperio," the older wizard said lazily, good-naturedly if it was at all possible with Snape, and Harry, again floating in that pool of forced peace, obediently bowed his head and let the man pull the golden chain over it.

"_Good boy,"_ Snape smirked sardonically and with a twisted smile of satisfaction playing on his lips repeatedly turned the small clock in his hand and sent the two of them to the past.

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_A/N 2: I am pampering you this week, I hope you know it. (1981 was updated (finally!) two days ago. (-:) Don't forget to review. (-:_


	10. Matters of Torture

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**Chapter 10: The Matters of Torture **_

_A/N: Betaed by excessivelyperky. __A huge thank you__ – also for all your helpful comments. (-:_

_On this and previous chapter – in her review, duj says that she doesn't think, Snape would have had it so easy to Imperius Harry. But who says it was easy? As in canon, you read now from Harry's point of view. Yet, Snape knew that Harry could fight the curse – and as proficient as he was in Mind Magic, he simply adjusted the strength of the curse. _

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_Hogwarts, Room of Requirement_

_Late Christmas 1997_

Harry hated the comfortable warmth enveloping his mind. He knew that much – but whenever he tried to escape the foggy coziness, some outer stronger will forced him back to peaceful meaninglessness. After a while, he let himself happily drown in it, time after time. It always took him many long moments to become aware that the peace he felt was unnatural, and more time after that before he finally started to fight it. But the end of the story was always the same – Harry would fight his way to half-awareness, and in the moment he accomplished it, some other will forced him back beneath the surface.

The alternating periods of awareness and peaceful dozing might have lasted only minutes as easily as an hour or two. Harry, in his more lucid moments, had to admit that even days might have gone by without him noticing. Some part of his mind remembered that he should be angry. Yet another part of his consciousness provided a picture of a greasy-haired man he vaguely recalled hating– but none of it held any importance now. Harry was confident, and for now felt safe. The outside will never released him from the comfortable prison of his Imperiused mind, where he was strangely satisfied to dwell.

Then, the outer will that had overpowered Harry so easily slowly let go off the grip that it had over his mind. Harry felt it gently probing on the edges of his consciousness. _Legilimens,_ Harry felt more than heard and the gentle probing grew into an intrusion he remembered all too well from his disastrous lessons with... the greasy man... _how was he called?_ ... he searched for the answer for a moment, unthinkingly forcing the intruder away from him so that his mind could clear... and finally found the answer: _Snape._

The very same man sneered at him the moment his eyes blinked to complete his rise to consciousness. As Harry saw Snape's hand with a bared wand and vividly feeling his own paralyzed body, he understood what had transpired and cried with all the hate he could muster, "You bastard! YOU GREASY, UGLY BASTARD!"

Snape toyed with his wand, smirking in some twisted satisfaction under his beard. _"Complaining, _Mr. Potter?"he asked, shaking his head in pretended disbelief. "My, my, aren't we ungrateful! And there I thought, you _might _rather _like_ to see at last that even _the Golden boy_ is able to Occlude. If, certainly _– since nothing is ever easy with you –_ given the right prompt."

Harry stared at the man, anger and overwhelming hatred flaring from his eyes. "I. HATE. YOU," the boy said, boiling on the inside.

"SNIVELLUS!" Harry spit out, his eyes rebellious and strongly reminding Snape once more of James Potter than Lily. "SNIVELLUS!" Harry repeated and madly laughed, suddenly thinking that whatever Snape would do to him would be hundred percent better than any torture Voldemort could think of. And die he would, now that the Death Eater bastard had him as a prisoner.

"Snivellus." Harry tasted the name and loved the sweetness of it on his tongue. "Snivellus." _Kill me, you bloody bastard! What are you waiting for?_

Harry felt Gryffindor bravado, with all the folly of it, rising in him. He good-naturedly smirked. _If I have to die, I will do it properly. I won't die pleading for my life... I won't give that to the son of bitch here, nor to Voldemort..._ The thought of pleading for his life brought to mind the sight of Dumbledore's crumpled figure, pleading with the very same man that stood here in front of him in – and Harry once again felt hatred overwhelming him.

"_Come on, Snivellus!"_ he cried, "If you can kill a defenseless old man who – you _damn, damn, damn bastard! –_ trusted you until the very end – why don't you raise your wand on a disarmed former student whom you hate anyway? Say it – say it, do you hear me? You _won't_ hear me plead for my life! No, you will not. SNIVELLUS!"

Snape was clearly growing angry – but for some reason, he halted his wand before it could touch Harry's chest. _"No,"_ he announced clearly, "you will not have it this easy. I am not your dear godfather, Potter, in case you have forgotten. Some stupid teasing with a childhood nickname your father, and apparently you, thought amusing will not make me cast an Avada Kedavra on you. Sorry to disappoint you..._ Chosen One." _

It was Harry who boiled with rage now – and Snape had clearly known that the name would have this effect on him since the man only smirked at the boy's reaction. The man spoke again. "You, on the other hand, seem to have inherited your godfather's manners. ... Should I repeat to you what happens to the fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves before the Dark Lord? ... I think yes – since you never listened to what I had to say before... But then – what purpose would that serve? The Dark Lord will gladly teach you this little lesson himself."

Snape paused and chuckled unpleasantly. "I have my own lesson to teach you, Potter," he cleared then. "And I assure you that you will enjoy it as much as the Dark Lord's torture. Only, I am fond of slightly different methods than he is."

Harry couldn't help it and eyed the man with dread he couldn't suppress fast enough. Snape gave an affirmative nod: "Oh yes, Potter, it will hurt you. But young men that don't listen to their elders don't deserve anything else, don't you think? ... Whatever you may believe, Potter, I have – _for the moment, anyway_ – no desire to see you dead – but _I hate you_ being one of my failures. Before I deliver you to the Dark Lord, hence, _Mr._ Potter, _you will learn_ the skill I tried to hammer into your thick skull already once. Although this time you will not leave here _unless_ _you_ _actually learn_ something. You will give me that satisfaction… or I can assure you I have other means to have fun with Dumbledore's golden boys."

Noticing Harry's rebellious glance that had appeared sometimes around the middle of his speech, Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And think twice before you say aloud what is on your mind now. Even the best instructor cannot teach a dunderhead who refuses to learn... But I promise you I have my ways to ensure your cooperation this time around."

Wordlessly, Snape pointed his long white finger at the teacher's desk (even in the past, the Room still looked the same spartan equipped classroom). As if bewitched, Harry turned as much as the laming hex allowed him and saw a familiar ceramic bowl. The boy immediately shuddered at its sight. _Pensieve._ _Dumbledore's Pensieve_. So Snape wanted his revenge for _that _incident_..._ Harry wondered only how harshly the man planned to punish him. _Will I leave the room with my mind still intact? _Cold sweat bathed his body – and Harry gave up the thought of preferring Snape's tortures to Voldemort's.

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_Please, review. (-:__ It's good to know people like your stories. (((-:_


	11. The Pensieve

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**Chapter 11: The Pensieve**_

_**by Iva1201**_

_**A/N:**_ _Betaed by excessivelyperky. Thank you!_

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**Motto:**

_"… he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin…"_

(from the first Occlumency lesson)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix," GB children version (2003) – p. 472

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"No, Potter," Snape denied softly. His words interrupted Harry's maelstrom of thoughts. "I don't desire revenge for _that incident,_ as you put it. Not right now, anyway."

Harry tore his eyes from the Pensieve. _What then? Why I am here and _what_ do you want, you bastard?_ he thought. From what he saw, his face once again became an open book for Snape.

The man chuckled darkly, in reality not amused at all. Inwardly, Snape cursed Dumbledore for not having found the time to hammer at least some of his exceptional mind shielding skills into Potter's thick skull. _What exactly, in the name of Merlin, were you doing with the boy during all those bloody study sessions you insisted on having last year, old man?_ Snape pensively stared at Potter's face, hoping to read his features once more. But the boy's mind was elsewhere, with the boy mulling over his current prospects.

_Naturally,_ Snape sighed to himself. _Either you don't think at all, Potter – or you brood over too many things at once. Gryffindor through and through – just like your sainted father and Black. How the Sorting Hat came to the idea you would do well in Slytherin is beyond me... _Snape frowned at the memory of Potter sitting under the Hat. If the Occlumency lessons served no other purpose, he had learned quite a bit about Potter's past – something he wasn't always very happy about. Nevertheless, the man hoped that the knowledge would serve him well now, were he to succeed in his present task.

He gazed at Harry's face again – only to discover that the boy's mind was still preoccupied. _Right then, _the man thought, _yet another thing I will have to drag out of you in a less pleasant way_._ We are in for a long night, Potter. I hope you are up to it._

Slowly, Snape motioned to the opposite side of the teacher's table and the chair by it. "Sit, Potter," he said in a commanding tone.

Harry was about to protest, to shout at the man that he couldn't make even a single step with that _damned_ laming spell still effective – but Snape was faster.

A meticulous movement of his wand, and Harry was _finally_ able to move. Not enough to run away as he hoped to do (provided the Room was not locked as he feared), but his legs – when he thought hard enough about them moving, carried him forward once again, and no longer requiring a prompt from Snape's side. Harry sighed in relief.

Snape raised an amused eyebrow. "Who would have thought _the Golden Boy_ would find satisfaction in such small things," he remarked acerbically, bemusedly shaking his head. Then he expectantly looked at the chair opposite him.

When Harry even now failed to move, the Professor's eyes narrowed in sudden anger. Snape pointed at the offered chair with his still bared wand. "In there, Potter – _if you would be so good."_

Snape's face bore an expectant smirk, the man clearly savouring the idea of _forcing_ Harry to sit. "You just need _to think_ about your legs moving forward, Potter. Now, I know _this _may be difficult for likes of you – but, _please,_ try." The Headmaster's voice was honey-sweet now, the man smirking ironically.

Boiling on the inside, Harry bit his lip to center himself – and experimentally made the first, small step forward, just as Snape had instructed. It took quite a lot out of him, both physically and mentally – his legs heavy as lead, his mind suddenly concentrating only on his legs' moving – but they indeed worked. Harry gave a small, self-satisfied smile – and immediately anxiously thought about how far the exit of the Room was from him. Would he be fast enough to get there – and out of here?

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape turning from him, probably looking for a chair of his own. For whatever reason, the man didn't summon it magically – but rather walked over to get one. _Very slowly_, Harry noted and shook his head in silent disbelief. _This is too easy. _Still, the boy had to take the chance.

Harry turned to the door, thankfully in the wall behind him rather than on Snape's side of the Room. He focused on it, summoned all his willpower – and step by step, forcing his knees up and down, he moved forward, steadily towards the threshold. The wild turmoil of his thoughts calmed and Harry focused only on his task. _Foot up, bend the knee, move the thigh forward, foot down._ And then with the other side. _Foot up, bend the knee, move the thigh forward, foot down…_

Abruptly, a quick idea crossed Harry's mind: _Was this what Snape called clearing his mind? It reminds me quite a lot of the feeling I had before he released me from the Imperius… NO. Please, NO._ _It can't be so easy. _Harry forced the disturbing thought away and concentrated again only on moving towards the ancient oak door. _Just a few more steps… just a few more,_ he repeated to himself like a mantra, over and over again_._ Unfortunately, all his efforts were to be in vain – he simply wasn't fast enough.

Suddenly, Snape's bony fingers painfully closed around Harry's shoulder and the dark wizard tossed Harry back, towards the chair prepared for him. Harry noticed another chair sitting across the table now – positioned quite neatly, as if Snape hadn't rushed. _Really strange,_ Harry thought, and refused to mull it over any further.

Once at the table, Snape forced Harry to sit down. Mumbling something about unteachable Gryffindors, the man secured Harry with invisible ties produced by his wand. For the moment, Harry didn't care – the boy still cheered his small victory a few moments ago. He had almost made it… _Just wait when another chance offers itself, Snape! Now, I know I can make it…_

Unbeknown to Harry, Snape cherished his accomplishment as well – if he wasn't very mistaken, this little adventure had quite sufficiently cleared Potter's thoughts and concentrated his mind. Secretly, Snape congratulated himself for the idea of letting Potter apply his mind for once. Aloud, however, he sneered: "That was _the opposite direction,_ Potter. My, my, haven't they taught you in the Primary school what the difference was between _forward_ and _backward?"_

The boy swallowed, anger rising in him. Snape had definitely the talent to rouse it in him. For once, Harry managed to suppress it and instead of barking an insult at the older man, he expectantly stared at him.

If Snape was surprised, he hid it well. Openly, he only nodded in satisfaction. "See, Potter, when you are cooperative, things can be _really _easy." He pulled out his own chair and sat down opposite to Harry, comfortably leaning back in his seat. The Pensieve glittered like silver on the table between them.

Snape raised his wand and nonverbally summoned the rune-decorated bowl to him. Harry, fascinated, watched how memory after memory were pulled from Snape's temple and stored in the Pensieve, the man eyeing him every so often, to see if he kept sitting obediently in his place behind the large desk – as if he could do anything else with the invisible restrains in place.

Finally, Snape appeared to be finished. Harry hazarded a glance at the surface of the Pensieve. To his astonishment, the horse-like face of aunt Petunia, much younger than Harry had ever seen her, came into his view there. Before he could get any detail, however, Snape banished the Pensieve, frowning. Harry understood that the man didn't intend for him to see what he did…

But before he could start wondering about what he saw, Snape interrupted his thoughts once again. "You are of age now, Potter," he stated emotionlessly, the previous frown replaced by a mocking smirk. "Would Dumbledore be still alive, he would probably insist I offer you also access to a Pensieve now… _But,_ that would hardly serve my purpose, _I fear._ You will thus excuse me for not asking the Room to provide you a second Pensieve.

Oh," Snape paused upon seeing the eager look on Harry's face, "and forget about getting one by yourself. _For whatever reason,"_ he smirked good-naturedly, "the school chose to recognize me as its head. Even here, you cannot override my orders – _I am sorry."_

Harry couldn't decide if Snape was trying to ridicule him now – or make him angry so that the thoughts he needed to protect so desperately ended up surfacing. Whatever, the man certainly was succeeding in the later. Harry bit his lips so hard that it hurt.

_Get hold __of yourself, Harry,_ he thought. _It can't be that difficult if this bastard can do it all the time – and Dumbledore thought you would be able to learn it. Yes, that's it, _Harry settled on, _Dumbledore believed you would be able to Occlude! No better time to prove him right._

Harry forced himself to suppress all the thoughts of Dumbledore betraying and using him. The minor hurts the old Headmaster caused him were nothing comparing to what Snape did or what the man was about to do now.

"I wouldn't want the Pensieve anyway," the boy refused calmly, his voice proud. "I wouldn't trust you not to look in it, _Professor."_

_Like someone else did in the past, Potter, right? _Snape smirked sardonically. "I can't say I blame you, Potter," he said menacingly. "People usually tend to expect their own behavior patterns from their counterparts." The man's pale lips widened in something what might have been intended a smile – but in reality looked more like a repulsive sneer. "Shall we begin then?" he readied his wand.

Harry graced him with a rebellious glance. "Certainly. Is there anything particular you would like to see, _sir?"_ He stressed the title in a parody of their previous lessons.

"Oh yes, _Harry,_" Snape paid back, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "there are _a couple of questions_ I would like to have your answer to. The one thing I am interested in most is the one that _dear old Dumbledore _failed to entrust me with." He paused for the effect and when he went on, he underlined each syllable: _"The Dark Lord's Horcruxes._ So, Potter, how many of them are there precisely – and what exactly Dumbledore tasked you to do with them?" _I am very curious if the old man told you what your scar is in reality..._

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's forehead, ironically directly at the cursed scar. "Prepare yourself," he barked and Harry hurriedly tried to restore the peace he had felt only minutes ago. Now, that he knew (or rather gathered) what a cleared mind felt like, it was certainly easier – but still he succeeded only partly.

Sadly, Snape had never been one to offer him more time. "Legilimens," the man incanted softly a few moments later and without much resistance (not that Snape had expected anything else), he entered Harry's mind.

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	12. Revealing your Secrets

_**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**_

_**by Iva1201**_

**_Chapter 12: Revealing your Secrets_**

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_**A/N:** Many thanks to excessivelyperky for betaing and improving this for me!_

_Enjoy. (-:_

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_Hogwarts_

_Christmas Day 1997_

Snape entered Potter's mind with no expectations at all. If – or rather _when,_ he resignedly corrected himself – the boy made no improvement now that he had been shown what was expected out of him (a luxury young Severus Snape had not been offered by either of his hugely demanding masters), then his next action would be simple.

He would search the boy's mind for all he knew about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes. (Snape inwardly shuddered again at the thought of their possibly _great_ number, knowing the Dark Lord's attitude towards killing) – and then… _Then,_ he would need to plant a few false memories of this night in Potter's head – and erase the true recollections so that the boy wouldn't give him and his real intentions away.

Snape briefly considered even fully Oblivating the boy where the Horcruxes were concerned – but almost immediately remembered to take in account the two noisy friends awaiting Potter's return in the Forest of Dean. No doubt the boy in his never-ending stupidity shared even this highlydangerous and clandestine piece of information with them.

Snape sighed. No, the boy needed to maintain the precarious knowledge. He couldn't afford any more mistakes. It fully sufficed that he had left the compromising memory vial with Granger – he still felt _exceedingly_ uncomfortable over that act…

As he ruminated, Snape didn't notice the new resistance from Potter's mind to his intrusion. It only occurred to him the moment he began to search for memories relating to the Dark Lord's _damned_ soul vessels. Potter had _finally!_ attempted to Occlude his mind and clearly had – if still only to a degree – succeeded in it. The wild stream of mostly disturbing memories of the boy-hero's childhood Snape had become used to from their past lessons didn't appear this night (or actually rather _today_ if one considered his use of the Time Turner).

No, the stream of Potter's recollections was slowed down for once; Snape could feel the boy's struggle to keep him out. Considering his potency in Legilimency that rivaled both the Dark Lord's and even Dumbledore's skill, he wasn't surprised the boy couldn't show him out yet – _but,_ Snape almost smiled, it was certainly a start. About time.

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Harry attempted to keep his mind free of thoughts. He _really_ tried to do his best – but Snape still entered his mind with brutal ease. _What now?_ he thought frantically, his mind surprisingly still clear. How was he to protect the secrets Dumbledore had entrusted him with? _How_ when he had no wand?

Despairing, Harry recalled what Snape had once told him back when they still had _Remedial Potions_ lessons together. _'You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand…' _Funny how clearly he suddenly recalled the instruction! The clearing of mind apparently worked, Harry noted, upset. _Better not to dwell on it_, he thought and forcefully brushed the thought of Sirius dying needlessly that threatened to overcome him aside.

_Right, Harry, _he told himself to concentrate on the here and now, _expel the bastard with your mind only._ But – _how? How am I, by Merlin, supposed to accomplish that? _

If he recalled correctly, the only time he had ever been able to force Snape out of his head was when the bastard was about to view the scene of him kissing Cho. But Harry wasn't inclined to offer any more private memories like this to the bastard. So that course of action was out of question, too…

Harry's thoughts were disrupted by Snape's pressing for a memory; the man's mind was firmly set on getting as much information on Horcruxes out of him as possible. The boy was startled by the sudden vehemence – this time Snape clearly wasn't going to thoughtlessly rummage through his unpleasant childhood memories. No, today the man's mind was persistently brushing against his – pressing for any information Harry had on Voldemort's soul vessels. In particularity, he wanted to know _– needed_ to know, Harry felt the urgency – their number.

_Number_ – Harry forced all his other thoughts aside and tried to distract the man. _Number – number – number, _his mind was full of the word – and yet, yet Snape still managed to force his way to the memory stream Harry was used to seeing from their previous lessons.

The clearing of mind had nevertheless clearly helped to some degree here as well. The stream of his recollections was by no means a wild, unstoppable flood as in the past. No – today, it felt rather like a planned show, with all the memories centering on the one word, _number._

Admittedly, Harry was slightly disturbed with _the number_ turning out seven in the first and second memory. He sincerely hoped it was only an unhappy coincidence. Then Snape drove in again and the third recollection started to replay in his head. He immediately knew that it would centre on seven again – and the _hated_ Slytherin bastard would be led directly to his answer.

Groaning, Harry attempted to pull himself together. With gritted teeth, he set himself against Snape's mind, desperately trying to push it away from his recollections. For a time, he didn't appear to be managing it… the memory played on and on. Harry pressed harder. _You are not viewing this!_ he commanded – and suddenly, suddenly, Snape's mind bowed back and Harry, for the second time in his life, entered the man's memories.

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_Horcruxes, Potter. Show me how many are there!_ Snape pressed, absurdly pleased with the boy's starting reign over his mind. The harshness he had treated the boy with had clearly paid off. He was certain that if they had more time, Potter would _finally _learn how to block his thoughts.

What a pity that Dumbledore wouldn't approve less sensitive teaching methods when they had had their original lessons! Severus surely _wouldn't have_ hurt the boy – no, _not even_ James Potter's _frustrating_ offspring, especially when he hadn't unintentionally hurt _anyone,_ including Dumbledore in his most irritating days after he had learned how to block the seductive power of Dark Magic through his Occlumency shields.

It might have spared them all much trouble, to force Potter _to learn_ that way… – or maybe also not. Snape sighed. The Unforgivables were called such for a reason – and if Umbridge had found out that Dumbledore had approved of him using them at school… No, it wouldn't have worked either, despite her own amateurish attempt at the Cruciatus against Potter. The Ministry taking over Hogwarts at an earlier date in the year of the Dark Lord's return to power would have created possibly even a worse situation than the precarious reality Snape lived in presently. _The puppet Headmaster of the Dark Lord acknowledged by the School on Dumbledore's bidding only, hated with passion by everyone except the Carrows, who feared him. _Snape smirked unhappily. _Funny how fast he had relearned to appreciate Narcissa's and Lucius's friendship – no matter the impossible position the fair-haired witch had forced him into just over a year ago. _

Snape resolutely halted his running thoughts here. This was _not_ happening – _he wasn't getting distracted!_ Not when their time was so limited – no matter how tired he felt after not having slept two nights in a row and poorly too many nights to count before that. Taking deep breath, he attempted to regain his usual tight rein over himself.

Knowing the urgency and having a great deal of practice, he succeeded momentarily – and almost started to laugh over Potter's tactic to keep him away from his recollections. _Number – number – number._ _Indeed, Potter. Sorry to disappoint you, but this is only the best way to lead me to the memories I asked to see. You could have at least attempted to think in Parseltongue – not that it would have helped you much against the Dark Lord! What you were attempting was distraction, you imbecilic boy, not summoning your recollections centering on number! I bet you would give me what I want with your first memory_… But then Snape needed to know, didn't he?

_Show me, Potter!_ he commanded forcefully, not willing to lose any more of their precious time on this struggle – and was immediately rewarded with the stream of Potter's recollections replaying in front of his inner eyes.

_Potter was six or seven, helping Petunia serve the table. In the middle of it, a huge cake with chocolate icing and seven candles in the shape of small racing cars was awaiting the arrival of its owner, no doubt the whale-like son of Petunia. Potter fiddled with napkins, just to be able to admire the cake and the candles a little longer – clearly not being allowed to taste even a small piece of it. The seven –_ seven!_ – candles were lit and Potter swallowed a jealous tear…_

_Second or third year Potter was at a Gryffindor Quidditch team meeting, following Oliver Wood's account of their newest tactic – Wood sketching his new idea on the board, representing each of his players with a dot. One – two – three – four – five – six – and the Seeker, ironically Potter -_ seven.

Snape smirked. Just like I said, he thought – and frowned over the number. Seven. Not the quantity he had originally feared – but still a considerable amount. Would Potter know more about them? Did Dumbledore? Snape's thoughts were again about to race – and he had to force them to stop running. _Better be sure first, Severus, on at least one thing. Try one last memory to validate the number – and press for more only then._

Snape pushed for another memory, another number. Potter tried to block him, more vehemently than before, but he still wasn't strong enough. A moment later, Snape was shown what he asked to see…

_Potter was panting for breath, just having reached the door of the Dark Arts Professor's office. He couldn't have been much younger than now – and surely late as usual. Still somewhat out of breath, the boy raised his right hand to knock – and was immediately rewarded with the door opening in front of him…_

As Potter struggled to keep him out, the memory flow slowed here – but Snape immediately recognized the thick hands with numerous fingers and disgustingly pink sleeve of Dolores Umbridge, _the second most hated Head of the school – just after him._ Swiftly recalling the dispositions of the office under her reign, Severus knew also what he was about to view when Dolores would move aside to allow Potter in. He remembered the small table behind her back where the Blood-Quill no doubt lay prepared for Potter – and the ceramic clock with a Technicolour kitten on the wall behind her head. He would bet anything, that the clock would show just over seven. Dolores liked her Detentions to occur earlier, but Severus recalled a couple of times when she had postponed them for a Ministry visit's sake.

Snape pressed a little bit more and finally, _Dolores's face came to full view and then, the insufferable woman started to move to the side._ Just a moment more and he would have his confirmation…

And here Potter caught him unprepared. Unexpectedly, the boy summoned his mental power and pushed against Severus's intrusion. The sudden vehemence unbalanced Snape for a moment. Before the man could react, the memory flow turned against him, and now they were viewing one of his memories. One would say an innocent one – but what had ever been innocent in Snape's life?

_Hogwarts Express was standing at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the students bidding their parents and siblings good-byes before another school year. In the middle of the platform, a girl with red hair stood just next to a dark-haired boy, a woman and a man bowing to embrace her and shake hand with him. Just behind the woman, a slightly older girl with a horse-like face was sulking, clearly wanting to be far away._ Petunia, him and Lily. And Lily's damned son recognized them clearly too, for their connection abruptly broke.

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_Sorry for the delay, I had quite a writing block. A review, please? (-:_


	13. Corruption

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 13: Corruption**

_A/N: Many thanks to excessivelyperky for betaing this__ for you and me! (-:_

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Harry spent only a few seconds in Snape's mind and the boy got just a glimpse of the man's childhood memory. Seeing his scolding Aunt Petunia as a girl drew Harry's attention first, following by the younger version of his mother – but what had really shocked him out of his wits was the young Snape shaking hands with who had very clearly been Harry's grandparents. Suddenly nauseated, Harry willed the connection to end there and then, not caring to see any more of the _horrifying_ recollection.

For a moment, the boy felt like he would really vomit; his shaking body stayed upright only due to the charm Snape had used to glue his body to the chair. Harry absolutely avoided looking up, for the mere thought of finding there the no doubt self-satisfied smirking face of the _murdering bastard_ who had once _known!_ his family turned his guts.

Lily Evans had obviously not been a stranger to the boy Snape, not just some closely unacquainted member of an inimical Hogwarts House. No, they must have known each other fairly well when Snape _friendly!_ shook hands with Harry's grandparents for a good-bye – probably at least as well as Harry knew the Weasleys. And still Snape had killed her... The bastard killed Harry's mum _– and dad –_ without a thought, telling his _damned_ dark master about Trelawney's prophecy without as much as a twitch of conscience.

Bitterly, Harry recalled how much he had feared for Ginny back when Tom Riddle's diary had possessed her. She had been just Ron's little sister to him at that time, whom he had not even known well – and yet, yet his only thought down in the Chamber then had been to save her, no matter what the cost for him.

The present Harry wanted to scream, to punch the older man sitting so calmly opposite him – until he bled, until he hurt as much as Harry did – until Harry's parents got their revenge! But here he sat, a hostile spell holding him firmly in place, keeping him from doing anything at all – aside from screaming in rage or hurting the man with his own weapon – _words._

The boy decided on the latter. Eyes directed rather on the hands folded in his lap than Snape, he whispered, voice full of unsuppressed emotion, _"I hate you."_

Surprisingly, Snape answered with a similarly weak voice, with something almost like regret in that low voice. Harry refused to acknowledge even the possibility of such a feeling from the other man's part. "I know, Potter. Trust me, _I know," _the dark man acknowledged Harry's hatred; an unhappy smile playing on his narrow lips.

"You killed her," Harry added unnecessary, still speaking quietly. He finally shot a straight glance up at the older man's face, shocked to find it drawn of all colour. Anger overpowered him at that sight and tone of the man's voice from before, both so unbelievable to him. The boy insulted Snape, his hateful voice dripping sarcasm: "Pretending to feel regret, _sir? _There is no need for that with me – I am no Albus Dumbledore to fall on it, have you forgotten!"

Harry gave a crooked smile before continuing, starting to enjoy his little tantrum. _"Honestly,_ I am also not particularly interested in turning into one – to let you kill me and then hang day by day as a portrait on your wall, having to act as if _nothing_ was wrong with you being the Head of this school? No, _thank you –_ the idea actually rather sickens me, Snape! More importantly even, _you _are_ not worth _the trouble, you see, _Professor?" _ Harry's voice cut, his tone whipping the older man, while the boy-saviour's face brightened in twisted triumph.

Snape eyed Harry with deep detestation once the boy's speech was over, all his good intentions disappearing for the moment. "You don't need to tell me all that, Potter. I am quite aware of my deeds," the man pronounced icily, staring at his young companion in displeasure.

_Damn!_ _We don't have time for this conflict now!_ Snape swore inwardly, too well aware that this borrowed time ran as fast as the real clock.

Harry answered solely with twisting his lips again – as if suppressing a sneer. Snape frowned at his simpering face; at the deep desire of the boy to wound him that stared at him from Potter's _– from_ _Lily's!_ – painfully familiar green eyes. Suddenly wanting to repay the boy in the same coin, the man leaned back in his chair and said, speaking quietly but emphasizing each word, while hating himself for using Lily in such a twisted way: "Concerning your mother, Potter – she didn't have to die, you know. It would have fully sufficed for her to hand you over to the Dark Lord – and she could have lived. Doesn't that make _us both_ guilty of her demise? Although, _believe me,_ I am well aware of _my sins_ against her."

Harry let out a humourless laugh at this answer, refusing to react to Snape's unjust accusation. _"Sins, Professor?" _he asked better, shaking head in disbelief."You just _don't_ call them _that_ normally, do you, Snape? She was after all only _a Mudblood_ to you – and my father, and Dumbledore – _just how would you call them?_ _Mudblood lovers,_ isn't that, _sir?"_ Harry's green eyes adopted a hateful expression now, the boy's insides boiling with anger. "I have already known all this, you see? No need to tell me twice!"

"What else would you like to teach me, _Professor?_ The Unforgivables, perhaps? I know I would profit from knowing how to cast the Killing Curse; actually, I even have an excellent test-subject right here…"Harry returned to whispering, the wrath finally taking over in him and he willingly submitting to the Darkness swirling in his insides. He knew he was being corrupted but he no longer cared. _Haven't I always known that killing Voldemort would require from me to learn Dark Magic?_ _Why not to use it to battle Snape, too? _Harry thought, his eyes glistering in dark triumph – his somewhat mad look greatly disturbing the man opposite to him.

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	14. Saving the Saviour

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 14: Saving the Savior**

_A/N: Beta read by excessivelyperky. Many thanks for that!_

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Having Potter view one of his supposedly _innocent_ memories left Snape admittedly somewhat shaken. He clearly was tired if he'd allowed the boy access to a memory Potter had wanted to see ever since he had spotted his aunt's face on the surface of Snape's Pensieve.

On the other hand, Severus knew very well this was a possibility when teaching Occlumency or searching thoughts of a counterpart. His experience told him that once an Occlumens didn't concentrate on the protection of his own mind, leaks like this simply happened. Clearly, this was the case for all masters of mind magic arts – or why Dumbledore had so willingly offered him the use of his Pensieve, when the old man had first ordered Severus to teach Lily's son how to protect himself against the Dark Lord's intrusion.

What really disturbed Snape was Potter's reaction to the memory – he had expected wonder and shock, perhaps accompanied by questions and accusation – but the rage this single, _insignificant_ recollection awoke in the boy was worrisome.

Severus was disturbingly reminded of his own youth – the slow seduction of the Dark Arts he had experienced back then, his willingness to embrace the Darkness once he had thought any other path was longer an option to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived, the supposed saviour of the wizarding world shouldn't have acted like that. Snape's face twisted in a concerned frown. Had he really corrupted the boy when he had never intended it? The possibility hurt – Severus could almost see both Lily and Dumbledore staring at him in accusation.

Snape knew immediately that he would need to somehow save the boy _again_ – this time from himself. But with Occlumency he had had over a year to conceive of alternative methods of teaching an undedicated student, never knowing when Dumbledore would task him with the job again. Now Snape faced much more pressing problem.

Should the boy not come back to his senses in the next few hours, Severus would not be able to let him return to his two little friends as he had planned. He didn't want to think of the alternatives for the moment, but having Potter imprisoned in Hogwarts was not an appealing thought, nor a real possibility with the Carrows ruling over the place. Severus slightly smirked at the thought of Potter being held captive at Spinner's End, but dismissed that thought as well.

He would find a solution if it proved necessary – until then there was still a chance, however minor, that this whole unfortunate story would end well.

If this wish was granted, Snape knew he would count the day a fortunate one.

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Embracing the Darkness swirling in him felt really good to Harry; it was as if all the struggle he had to face recently suddenly lost its importance, and all that was left were his own wishes and desires. He understood that the magic he had accepted a moment ago would give him the strength to achieve them all – from battling Snape for a start, to eventually killing Voldemort. When Harry managed that, the inner power he now had would help him to set the whole world right. Hermione and Ron would _assist_ as usual, and all three of them would be celebrated for their accomplishments—with him positioned slightly higher on the pedestal of glory. The mere thought felt so good that Harry couldn't even envision the real possibility of them being applauded by the whole community of wizards once Voldemort was gone.

For a fleeting moment, the boy wondered why the Darkness had seemed so abominable to him before – but his mind assured him that there was no reason to worry about that. His primary tasks were getting rid of Snape, killing the pain-in-arse if necessary – but it would be better to _really_ hurt him, so that he felt what Harry and his parents and Dumbledore did; and then disposing of the self-invited _Lord_ Tom Riddle.

Just why had Sirius been so self-absorbed that he wouldn't see what his true, Black heritage could have helped him to do? It would have been better if the man had only acknowledged this darker part of himself, just as Harry did now, and he would have regained his freedom and respect from the others in no time! Harry felt a sudden wave of rage at his godfather for refusing to save himself for his sake. Maybe, since Sirius clearly hadn't cared enough for him, it was just as well that the man had died exactly the way and when he did. Harry at least was not obliged to him for anything.

The boy glanced up at Snape, turning his attention to the bastard of a man opposite to him. Maybe if he could summon his new power, he would be able to leave the Room of Requirement and lock the man there, wishing from the outside that it would turn into a Torture Chamber for the Slytherin – perhaps, he could even invite Filch to enjoy the first real torment at Hogwarts in years! Oh yes, wouldn't that be a good deed! Harry smirked in delight – his eyes met Snape's and their gazes at last joined.

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Severus observed the boy, his concern increasing. He had applied the superficial Legilimens that had served him so well during many occasions in the past when he had been dealing with school-troublemakers, the young man opposite him in one of the front places, and was shocked about what the spell revealed to him. _Harry Potter_ coming to the conclusion Dark Magic would assist him to achieve _his goals?_ Snape knew by now that Potter despised his fame and couldn't quite envision the boy accepting a public ovation – and neither did he view the Granger girl on the pedestal Potter was so _selflessly _building for her. The Weasley boy, possibly, but certainly not her.

That Potter wanted to kill him and the Dark Lord was no surprise, and Severus dismissed that thought quickly. But what really made him wonder about the boy's mental health was the sudden decision that Black was not worth Potter's love – the mutt having sinned by his refusal to acknowledge his dark heritage, the only thing Snape had ever admired about the man! Severus frowned, overpowered by the need to pull the boy out of this madness. Potter's thought of doing a good thing by allowing Argus Filch to torment people – no matter _who_ was intended to be the target – prompted him to act.

When their eyes accidentally met, Snape repeated his _Legilimens –_ returning inside Potter's confused mind and preparing one particular recollection for the boy as a reward of sorts if he managed to expel him. Severus felt he would be doomed if he didn't try that course of action, though it really pained him to show anyone – and Potter in particular – that Black was a decent man after all.

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Once again, Harry found himself in the realm of his mind, with Snape intruding into his memories. The man seemed to be distracted somehow, though, for Harry didn't feel the vehemence from before, as if Snape had lost all his interest in Horcruxes. Not that Harry minded – he was well resolved not to give the bastard of a man access to any other recollection centering on those damned Soul Vessels of the cursed Dark Lord!

Harry attempted to distract his one-time Professor with more mundane memories before the man came back to his senses and demanded information again. For some reason, though, the first recollection in the memory stream he allowed Snape to view was one of Sirius dying. Harry swiftly pushed it away, only to end with another memory centering on his godfather. It was as if his mind revealed a planned show – similar to when he had centered all his thoughts on the word _number._

Harry wondered if him having an idea in his mind (_number_ before and _Sirius_ now) simply summoned the thoughts of them and was shocked to find out that it was very possibly so. _No more thinking of Sirius,_ he thought as he tried to close his mind – and miracles of miracles, Snape's mental barriers bent for him – and he gained access to the man's mind; the recollection he was to view there shaking him to the core.

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It felt very strange to Snape to sit so close to Potter and bare his mind to the boy, when his one-time student was on the verge of turning Dark. _Would he have done it for young Tom Riddle if he had known him all those years ago? Or for Bella, Avery or Lucius?_ He very much doubted it – but as annoying as he was, this boy unfortunately had now only him to pull him away from the danger. Severus knew he had to attempt to save him, for all their sakes. No matter how much he disliked the boy – or thought he disliked him. He never was sure about that himself...

As he had foreseen, Potter's thoughts remained on the mutt of a godfather Potter had lost so soon – and predictably, the first recollection they viewed was of the man's demise at the Department of Mysteries. Potter clearly didn't want to see that one as he promptly directed them away, though he didn't yet attempt to expel Severus fully – for which Severus waited, keeping his own mind mostly unprotected for Potter.

Potter's mind led them to another memory of Black – _the man shouting at the portrait of his dear mother, no doubt to keep her aristocratic pure-blooded mouth shut, _as Snape had seen him to do countless of times_ –_ and then, Snape cherished the moment as the boy realized what was happening and why, and finally learning the major rule of mind protection without a single word of explanation from Severus's part.

Satisfied as he was, Severus almost didn't notice when Potter's memory stream slowed and the intrusion turned slowly at him. Having practically no shields up, Severus's protection didn't last long – and soon, Potter was viewing the recollection Snape had intended him to.

To give Potter more than just an insignificant glimpse, Severus turned all his mental powers to maintain the connection and keep his mind on the same scene. He also concentrated on the clarity of his memory – his mind magic proficiency allowing him to offer a show with Pensieve-quality. Now, he only had to wait and hope that this display of the mutt's affection towards his godson would be enough to sway the stupid boy from the dangerous path he was about to walk...

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_Snape stepped out of the f__ireplace at Grimmauld Place, hastily brushing the soot off his robes. "Black! Lupin!" he shouted impatiently, his wand in his hand to face any possible attack. When neither man appeared or answered to inform him where to find them, Snape frowned. Damn it! he thought –_ Harry was amazed that it was possible to follow a memory in such a detail, unknown even for the Pensieve –_ and snapped again: "Kreacher! To me, at once!" _

_The ugly e__lf appeared, bowing in pretended obedience and whispering, "The Half-Blood is again here, Mistress, to stain your house. Why Kreacher have to suffer him here, the blood traitor?"_

_Snape bent to the elf, and whispered threateningly in answer, "I will remind you one last time, Kreacher, that your master Regulus asked me to treat you _kindly._ It will serve you well to remember that – as my patience with you is almost at its end. Now, bring your master here at once!"_

_The e__lf frowned but finally muttered, "As Master Prince wishes," and disappeared. Snape shook his head at the abominable manners, and particularly at the title the house elf insisted on approaching him with. Regulus's parents were like that, too, and he in his youthful foolishness even cherished them calling him by his pure-blooded grandparents' name. As if his father was a piece of dirt just because he was born a Muggle – it was, after all, his _wonderful _grandparents who threw Severus's mother out of the house for something as insignificant as her mentioning she admired Muggle nurses during the war and wanted to become one – or possibly join St. Mungo's, which most certainly was not good enough for the Princes either..._

_Snape's musing – _followed by the rather astounded Harry _– was interrupted by the loud entrance of a sweaty Lupin. Judging by the look of his face, he was worried something really serious had happened – and then, slightly delayed, the much calmer and slower entry of the mutt Severus despised so much – _Harry frowned at the hatred, but to Snape's delight, refused to leave the memory.

_The two men seemed to just __have had a duel. Snape couldn't help it but wonder if they finally managed to bury their friendship in some spectacular row – or if it was just a way for Lupin to keep Black occupied and feeling less useless. Whatever – the mutt was clearly alive and well – at least in all probability well, Severus smirked, and his mission was reduced to simply alerting the Order of Potter's stupidity and his possible trip to the Ministry. _Harry scowled at Snape's thoughts, finally understanding what scene they were viewing. But then he always wanted to know what happened that day at Grimmaud Place, didn't he?

"_Severus?" Lupin prompted, still somewhat out of breath. "What happened?"_

"_Your godson," Snape answered slowly, turning to Black to deliver the blow, but decided against using any provocative title for the imbecilic boy so that this didn't end in another fruitless row. "The boy got the impression that the Dark Lord holds you captive in the Department of Mysteries. Since you appear to be all right, it turns out that Potter simply allowed the Dark Lord to plant a false vision in his mind – the possibility we have feared since Christmas." Snape paused. _

"_Unfortunately," he started to speak again, when he was sure his information was absorbed, "after having attempted to contact you through Dolores Umbridge's fireplace, if I understand things correctly, Potter disappeared from the castle. The last time he was seen accompanying Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest – no doubt for a well-earned detention. Knowing Potter, however, he might get to the Ministry nevertheless -" _Harry made a face. Looking back, it had been a really stupid decision and he exactly the imbecilic boy Snape described him as but he simply hadn't wanted Sirius to die. It was ironic that it happened because he had tried to save the man unnecessarily…

"_Where he will run right in a trap set by Voldemort," memory Lupin finished instead of Snape. The werewolf blanched. "We need to summon the Order at once." _

_He pulled__ out his wand to cast a message-holding Patronus, but before he flicked it, Snape interrupted: "Only a few people, Lupin. We don't want to draw attention... Nymphadora, Moody and Shacklebolt perhaps? They belong to the Ministry after all."_

"_Good thinking, Severus," Lupin nodded and sent three silvery creatures with a summoning message. Snape noticed that the wolf deliberately chose to avoid looking in Black's direction, clearly as aware as Severus that his companion wouldn't approve of him following Snape's bidding._

_Instead, Lupin said: "We ought to inform Dumbledore, too. If Harry is to face Voldemort today, we wouldn't have much chance against him by ourselves."_

"_Have you forgotten Dumbledore will come along in an hour or so to pick up this week Order's reports, Moony?" Sirius Black interrupted in an unpleasant tone. "Snivellus here could wait for him, and send him behind us –I fear _Severus_ will find an excuse why not to join us anyway..."Black smirked and fidgeted with his wand, clearly expecting that Severus would react to his insult. _

_Snape frowned__, but refused to respond in the way Black wanted him to. "Sorry to disappoint you, Black," the Slytherin stated matter-of-factly, "I have obligations elsewhere – particularly searching the Forbidden Forest for your _imbecilic godson_ if we are lucky and he's still there."_

"Don't you dare call Harry that ever again!"_ Black barked, his wand raised now and about to be pointed at Snape's chest, if Lupin didn't block him. _"Imbecilic_ was to join your Dark Lord, Snivellus," Sirius opted to clash with the other man verbally instead. "You and my _dear_ brother were idiots to think that he would give you the recognition you sought... - and don't give me you were young. Harry is younger than you were then – and look at him! Instead of giving himself to a damned power-seeking self-invited dark lord, he stands to him! That's no idiocy, _that's brave,_ Snape!" _Harry had to smile at Sirius's defence of himself. If only this was always true!

_Were it not for Lupin standing right between__ them and blocking any blows with his wand, the memory Snape would have started a fight with Black instead of listening to his insults any longer. Severus had paid dearly for the stupidity of his youth and so had Regulus – and some flea-bitten mutt would not tell him otherwise! Particularly, if the dog hid in his house when others, Snape especially, risked their lives and sanity daily. _

"_Perhaps, Black," Snape__ replied, and forcefully calmed his fury with Occlumency as he often did when facing the Dark Lord. "But tell me what's so brave about your hiding in this house? Your Animagus form is well-known to the Death Eaters now, true, but Walburga's library would have given you other means to disguise yourself..."_

"_I _will not_ use dark magic, Snivellus, if it is what you suggest! See where it brought you! Losing your only decent friend and getting yourself a Skull and Snake Tattoo? _Was it worth it, I wonder?"_ Sirius questioned – _and Harry slightly nodded in approval, not really noticing he had just abandoned the dark path he had been about to walk.

_Snape gripped__ his wand now, ready to fire hexes if the insults continued. "Step away, Lupin," he drawled between clenched teeth. "I will not listen to this any longer."_

_Lupin refused to oblige and looking from one enraged face to the other, he commanded: "Sirius! Severus! Stop this madness right now! Remember about Harry!" _

"_Right. We have to save Harry." Sirius clenched his fists to ground himself and turned away, no doubt to calm his annoyance with Snape. _

_Lupin gazed at the Slytherin__ to see if he too followed. _Harry could feel how the man struggled with himself – _but then Snape schooled his face in his usual impassive mask and gave a nod. "I will return to Hogwarts now, Lupin," he announced. "Aberforth shall keep the connection in the Hog's Head open for you if you need to contact us."_

_The man turned to the fireplace, reaching for the Floo Powder can on the mantle, when Sirius approached them again. _

"_Wait, Snape," Black said, his voice surprisingly uncertain – it was clear that it cost him much to treat the other man civilly. _"Thank you_ for keeping an eye on Harry," Sirius continued, speaking fast as if he feared he couldn't force himself to finish otherwise. _"Please,_ don't stop just because _I am_ his godfather." _

_Lupin eyed his friend with open shock. This was clearly not something he would have expected Sirius to say _– and neither would Sirius suspected something might happen to him?

_Snape nodded slowly, apparently greatly startled himself. "I shall, Black, though not for you," he said and thrust the prepared powder in the flames, pronouncing: "Hog's Head, Hogsmeade." _

_One leg__ already in the green flames, Snape turned one last time to Sirius, for some reason as sentimental as Black was: "Wait for Dumbledore yourself, _yourecklessidiot_ – it would harm Potter if he were to lose you. Remember that grieving young fools may turn to Dark Magic and we cannot really afford to have Potter play with it..." Snape clearly was speaking from his own experience here, _Harry noticed with surprise.

_The green flames closed around Snape before Sirius could react but Snape –_ as well as the present Harry _– could hear Black's confident answer from a moment later through the connection. "Harry wouldn't turn Dark. He is his parents' son and my godson after all." _

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The memory ended here and Harry was pushed out of Snape's head. Back in the Room of Requirement, the two wizards eyed each other. Snape was satisfied to see how a lonely tear traveled down Potter's face, before the boy turned his face away from him.

_Legilimens_, Snape tried the superficial spell once again – and was satisfied to see that Potter was again himself. Perhaps with too many questions on mind for such an empty-headed Gryffindor, but nevertheless the very same Gryffindor Snape had brought to the castle from the Forest of Dean. Severus sighed in relief.

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_A/N: Hope you've enjoyed. A review to feed my muse would be nice. (-:_


	15. Consequences

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 15: Consequences**

_A/N: Please, excuse any mistakes possibly remaining – I don't think there are many, but who knows. I am actually too impatient to publish something again to wait for a beta. _

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The pleasant feeling of relief and satisfaction over a job good done was to leave Severus much too soon. The long mental connection he had needed to maintain with Potter had taken its tool on him – combined with the fatigue from the previous two nights when he had got hardly any sleep, while dealing with the _idiotic_ boy seated opposite to him now, the man started to feel faint and sensed a headache building. _Damn, _he thought, _not now. We cannot afford to loose any more time! _

Surreptitiously, Snape's hand reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the hourglass of the Time Turner. Thankfully without Potter noticing, the man checked the level of sand remaining in the upper part of the hourglass, keeping the hand holding the devise on his lap, well below the surface of the table. Still some three quarters remaining, Severus noticed with relief and hid the devise once again in his robes. _Well then, time to continue – although, maybe a sip of the Headache Potion would be advantageous first._ Snape reached in his robes once again, almost immediately finding the right vial by the shape of its stopper, a handy thing when one was to frequently wander in the dark, spying or fighting or simply guarding his students against their own foolishness and its consequences.

Not wanting Potter to spot any weakness by him, Snape stood and slowly walked towards the corner of the room, where a water carafe appeared accompanied by two glasses on his mental biding to give him an excuse to leave the table where Potter was being hold captive by Severus's spells. A glass of water would do both him and the boy good, too – in Severus's case it should help with the headache he had already suffered with and in Potter's case to postpone a headache building, as he hoped.

Once in the corner of his makeshift classroom, a.k.a. Room of Requirement, keeping his back turned to the boy, Snape downed half of the prepared vial, saving the rest for later – either for himself or possibly Potter, should the boy start to feel unwell too. A full dose would have been better, Snape knew, but timely remembered that he had not yet had time to restock his stores. Asking either Slughorn or Poppy for any potion was out of question for him these days, seeing to his rather precarious position at the school and the hatred his colleagues and one-time good acquaintances if not exactly friends, had harboured towards him ever since he had dared to aim his wand at Dumbledore and cast the fateful _Avada Kedavra._

Feeling his headache subsiding just a moment later, Snape thankfully reached for the carafe and poured the cool water it contained in the prepared glasses, turning slightly towards Potter so that the boy would be able to see him not altering the liquid. Once finished, Snape brought the glasses to his improvised teacher's table. "Here, Potter," he snarled and set one of the glasses in front of the boy. "Drink it out!" Snape wasn't surprised to see the boy's refusing expression but was determined that the boy would drink at least some of the water to avoid headache as far as it was possible.

"It's not poisoned, Potter," he said emotionlessly. "And there isn't even a drop of Veritaserum, if you can believe that. I prefer to rummage in your brain with Legilimency, you see. It's much more entertaining and with your attitude to protecting, or rather _not protecting_ your mind also much less taxing." Here Snape decided to leave the mocking aside and added sincerely: "Regardless, the magic we are presently occupying us with can lead to quite persistent headaches when applied with the intensity we need to do with at the moment. I have found out that drinking water during the process helps. You will do well to drink some yourself."

This said, Snape gulped down about a half of his own glass. Then he looked expectantly at Harry. "You can move your hands, Potter. Serve yourself." Seeing the rebellious glare the boy was giving him, Snape shook his head. "No, Potter, just because you refuse to drink the water, I will not stop searching your memories. If neither you, nor Dumbledore or his damned portrait can be more forthcoming with the information I need, I have to obtain it myself. I am only offering you a mean to avoid part of the discomfort connected with my actions. It's up to you to use my offer or not."

Harry was thirsty and the glass was tempting. But he didn't believe Snape not to have added something to the water, no matter he had seen the glasses being poured. There were also other truth potions except Veritaserum and many other solutions to loose one's tongue, even if he was to believe Snape's previous words about the contains of his glass. But then the man was correct – drinking water usually helped with Harry's headaches in the past, too. Harry looked at his unwelcome companion, wanting to tell him off, when his eyes fell on Snape's own glass, still in the older wizard's hand. "I don't believe you haven't altered the water," Harry announced, hoping beyond hope that Snape would offer him a sip from his own glass – as disgusting as the thought was that he would need to share a glass with his former greasy Potions Master – and a loathsome murderer in one person.

"I see," Snape nodded, correctly reading the boy's desire and anew disappointed that Potter still wasn't able to hide his thoughts behind a solid Occlumency barrier. "I can drink a bit from your glass to prove my words. You can ask me any question you like afterwards to prove that the water contains no Veritaserum, or any other truth or mind-manipulating potion." _Yes, this might even prove advantageous,_ Snape remarked for himself, unexpectedly satisfied with the development. _Tempt the brat to finally apply his brain in mental arts when he wouldn't get his answer (not very likely) – or only a hint of the information he sought!_

Harry eyed his former teacher for a while, still mistrustful. But then the boy nodded, reasoning that whatever mind games Snape wanted to play with him, the offered water may keep him in _working order_ for some later moment when he hopefully would find some way to escape.

The quiet acceptance surprised his companion. Snape marveled how the boy had calmed after viewing the memory of his godfather's departing words and he decided to look at the reason later. For now Severus simply reached for Potter's glass and took a long sip from it. Returning the glass back to the table in Potter's reach distance, the acting Headmaster of Hogwarts took his seat opposite to the boy once more. Waiting a bit, the one minute Veritaserum needed to take its full effect, Snape prompted the boy: "Ask your question now, Potter! I am sure you remember how a Veritaserum induced answer would sound like."

Harry nodded. He remembered only too well the half-automatized replies Barty Crouch Junior had given Dumbledore at the end of Harry's fourth year, the night when Voldemort had returned.

As to asking Snape a question to prove his sincerity – Harry actually had an inquiry he longed to have Snape's answer for – as much as he dreaded it. _What was between my mother and you? How well did you know each other?_ Harry knew that he was unlikely to get any answer to this question – just seeing to Snape's previous one-word reactions to the man's Hogwarts Express memory. But maybe another question would grant Harry at least a partial answer... Harry decided to try it, no matter the consequences. "My aunt Petunia," the boy said slowly, eying Snape expectantly. "Why does she hate my mother? Do you know?"

Snape stared at the boy, unhappy about the question. He would have very much preferred _'Why have you killed Professor Dumbledore?'_ or _'What are your intentions with me?'_ he had been quite sure would come out of the boy's mouth.

_My aunt Petunia. Why does she hate my mother? Do you know it?_ was not exactly a question after Severus's relationship with Lily, a sort of question that Potter wouldn't have received any good reaction to, but it was still very much a query that reminded Snape rather painfully about what he had lost. _What am I to do with you, Potter? You know how to stab your enemy so that it hurts, don't you?_

There was the option to not answer. Severus was well tempted to use it and find the easy way out. _But answering the boy might prove beneficial, too, and not only in tempting him to try his Legilimency skills, _it occurred to Snape suddenly. _One day I would need him to trust me – and he would ask for reasons. Give him one more, Severus... _Snape nodded to himself, resolving to reply. Harry understood already from Snape's long hesitance to give him an answer that his drink was free of Veritaserum – unless Snape was immune to it. Barty Crouch had always answered Dumbledore's questions immediately. But the boy didn't comment on the fact, hoping for Snape's response. 

"Very well, Potter," Snape drawled finally. "You might be surprised, but it's actually quite simple. Unlike your mother, your _dear aunt_ didn't receive her Hogwarts letter. Let us add that the letter Dumbledore sent her instead was not quite what she had expected." Snape raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked at Harry's glass. "Proof enough that there is no truth potion in your drink?"

Harry hesitated. The answer actually brought up more questions than it had solved, but a person who would have consummated Veritaserum would have spoken much differently and the delay in the answer had proven Snape right as well. _Alright, then, Snape hadn't killed me until this point – and he prefers to rummage in my brain to using truth potions anyway... _Harry parotted the man's reasoning in his mind and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. _Yes, the water ought to be safe,_ he decided, and at last took the glass, drinking out a good half.

Snape remained still until Harry finished and put his glass down. "Refreshed?" Severus asked sarcastically then, as if it wasn't him who had offered the water to Harry. When Harry hesitantly gave a single nod, the man smiled, a predatory, small smile of twisted amusement. "Let us continue then." Snape pointed his wand at Harry's forehead. "Legilimens," he half-said, half-whispered and entered Harry's mind.

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_A/N: A review? Thanks, you will feed my muse. (-:_


	16. Success

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 16: Success **

_A/N: I am really sorry but I__ had a writer's block on this one. New chapters of "1981" are (in their preliminary version that needs to be reworked however) on my computer back at home, while I am at a study stay abroad at the moment. I promise that it will be finished, but I ask for a bit more patience – I hadn't managed to finish it before I went abroad as I had intended. )-:_

_As to this one, enjoy and don't forget that your reviews feed my muse. (-: Please, excuse also any mistakes remaining, I hope to become again patient enough to get a beta's approval for the next chapters. (-:_

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Severus took his time to intrude Potter's mind. As much as he desired to get more information on the seven soul vessels the Dark Lord had seen fit to create (Severus once again felt relieved that there were no more of them), the present Hogwarts Headmaster had set himself another task that needed to be accomplished that night – to teach Potter how to guard his mind against the Dark Lord _at last._

By now, the boy ought to know how to clear his mind – the recent Imperio and laming hex lessons had served remarkably well there. Potter also positively understood that his distracting method had not worked and he was to avoid it. Unfortunately, the boy was still only able to push Snape out of his mind (unless the other wizard purposely lowered his shields for him) when Severus was about to view a particularly hurtful or private memory. _Time to work on it, Severus,_ Snape resolved and once satisfied that Potter's stream of thoughts calmed, inquired about the nature and location of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

Potter's cleared mind reacted to Snape's pressure with some slight opening resistance, but the boy had not been able to show Snape out, nor did he offer any diversion. Rather, after the opening struggle, Potter's mind quite predictably reacted to Snape's prompt with a memory related to the Horcrux hunt.

_Potter, by his appearance in one of his first Hogwarts years, raced down the corridor leading from the Headmaster's office. A moment later, panting for breath, the boy caught up with the retreating form of Lucius Malfoy._ Severus had to smirk at the blond aristocrat's disgusted expression when _Potter handed him a bloodied, dirty piece of cloth. Pulling the soiled cloth off of a small, black book, and throwing the piece of fabric, apparently Potter's sock, at his House-Elf, Dobby,_ the Malfoy patriarch prompted the present Potter to a belated attempt to show Snape out of his mind, or at the very least away from this particular memory.

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_It's private,_ Harry tried the tactic that had functioned for him before. _You are not going to view that._ The boy felt that his resolve not to allow Snape to see any more of the memory must have at least partially helped – the pressure of Snape's mind became less intensive, but sadly it didn't disappear altogether. The only thing Harry had accomplished was to slow the man's advance. The boy frowned when Snape got a glimpse of the damaged cover of Tom Riddle's diary in his mind. Then, thankfully, the memory shifted.

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_Right then, the book had clearly been one of them. Potter or Dumbledore must have destroyed it while stabbing it with some unknown, sharp device. Not the Gryffindor sword, however, by the shape of the hole, _Snape made a quick mental note. _Lucius clearly had been entrusted to store and guard the object, accomplishing exactly the opposite and endangering and consequently destroying the Horcrux on Dumbledore's or Potter's hands. It must have been the very same book that assisted young Miss Weasley to open the Chamber of Secrets in her first year – Lucius planned for revenge after Dumbledore had enraged him by his Gryffindor favouritism at the end of Potter's (and Draco's) first year... Clearly this is also the reason why the Dark Lord don't trust the man anymore. He must be aware then that this Horcrux had been destroyed. Would he attempt to or did he create a substitute one, I wonder?_

_In any case, that makes four known Horcruxes. _Severus counted, somehow managing not to loose the mental connection with Potter, despite his distraction. On the edge of his mind, Severus was disturbed by Potter's lack of action, but he continued to summarize his knowledge on Horcruxes nonetheless. _One Horcrux being Potter, the second the black book, the third the ring, the fourth the locket Potter and Weasley are destroying right now in the other time line. Three of them destroyed then. Dumbledore spoke of Nagini as if she was another, the fifth one, if I interpret his words correctly. There is also no seventh Horcrux, as the seventh part of the Dark Lord's soul must still reside inside of his body. We are hence looking for one, or possibly two more, should the Dark Lord have decided to compensate the loss of the Horcrux Lucius had been supposed to guard for him._

Snape sighed out in relief. This made the things definitely easier. He forced his thoughts to calm again and once more concentrated on Potter's memory stream.

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Harry was upset with himself. Snape intruded his mind with brutal ease once again. Distracted by the slow start of the intrusion, something Snape unbeknownst to him had thought beneficial for his counterpart, Harry didn't manage to react and attempt to show the man out before Snape had viewed almost the whole memory of Riddle's diary.

Harry sighed. As much progress as he had thought to be doing, he clearly still had no chance against Snape. And if he couldn't stand to the murdering bastard, current undeserved Headmaster of Hogwarts, what were his chances against his dark master?

Absorbed in this rather depressive course of thoughts, Harry didn't notice when Snape's pressure on his mind temporarily diminished, once the man started to catalogue his knowledge on Horcruxes. He might have paid better attention, though, had he known what Snape would try next...

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_The day Dumbledore died, show me Potter what you were doing with the Headmaster,_ Snape commanded, anew increasing his pressure on Potter's mind. Unwilling, an image of a cave appeared on the front of the boy's mind, and Snape gasped. He had once heard a delirious House Elf repeatedly mention a place like this, not quite believing it actually existed and wasn't planted in the small creature's mind on purpose to mislead possible enemies of the Dark Lord. He also recalled a glimpse of the very same place in Kreacher's mind when he questioned Regulus Black's disappearance on the Dark Lord's bidding years ago. _So, the place existed, _he shook his head in disbelief, coming out of his reverie.

_What happened there, Potter? Show me,_ he commanded again and was rewarded by a series of images – _a boat crossing the black pool of the cave; Dumbledore's ancient wand examining some strange liquid and a basin it was stored in; Potter forcing the same liquid, a Potion of some sort, down Dumbledore's resisting throat..._ With sudden morbid curiosity, Snape increased his hold on Potter's mind, and pressed for particularities.

At this point, however, the unexpected happened. Potter, obviously not fond of his last memories of Albus Dumbledore, fought back. Severus got one last glimpse of the emptied basin and a locket resting on its bottom, the pendant very likely the very same medallion that Potter and Weasley had destroyed that night in the other reality line. Then, Snape was pushed out, fighting his surprise and relief.

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Harry wondered if Snape asked for the memory of him poisoning Dumbledore on purpose. His actions that night ultimately led to the old man's death on the hands of the bastard, but it was unlikely that the man knew he was forcing Harry to relive one of the worse moments of his life. No, Snape was much more interested in learning about Voldemort's Horcruxes than making Harry miserable that night – had the offer of a drink to avoid headache meant something.

Be it as may, however, Harry was not willing to view any more of the painful memory. Not exactly knowing what he was doing but feeling it might be the right course of action, he let his mind envelope Snape's intrusion and pushed back with a single thought – _you don't belong here._

The next he knew, Harry was blinking his eyes open, looking straight in the face of the murdering Slytherin bastard he had just showed out of his mind. Harry was about to redirect his eyes from the man when he noticed the unusual expression on Snape's face. The man was smiling, a genuine little smile playing on his thin lips. The expression made Snape look years younger and Harry suddenly understood the man was indeed young, no older than Lupin, Sirius or his parents.

Then, Snape spoke, his voice for once rid of all sarcasm and malice. "Finally, Potter. But it has certainly taken you long enough."

Harry shook his head in response, not able to stop a small smile from forming on his own lips. No matter Snape was his enemy now, he used to be his most demanding teacher once – and praise coming from his lips, however little of it, was something Harry had never expected to hear. For some reason it made him feel better.

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	17. 6 Pieces of the Dark Lord's Rotten Soul

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 17: ****Six Pieces of the Dark Lord's Rotten Soul **

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_A/N: I know this won't be adequate but I do not have anything else to offer but the truth – I have a very time-demanding job since a couple of years now and I sadly do not have much free time at all. )-: Unfortunately this means that I also do not have time for writing on my stories most of the time – and I sincerely apologize for that. I can promise one thing, however – I will never abandon any of my stories. You must be only patient with me and my slow writing. Thank you._

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_Hogwarts, Room of Requirement_

_Christmas Day 1997_

"Well, Potter," Snape finally interrupted the silence, his voice emotionless as ever. "It seems that you are able to cast me out of your mind after all. Since you still have some information I am interested in, we shall try again. For your own benefit, I hope you will remember how to force me out at some point. Neither of us wants to suffer a bad headache tomorrow, I believe. Long, multiple Legilimency connections would do us just that. But seeing to your experience with the Dark Lord's vision you have already known that, am I not right?"

By some miracle, Potter kept his temper in check. The boy simply miserably nodded, most probably trying to figure out how exactly to fight Snape's next intrusion.

Severus didn't mind the lack of the verbal reaction from the boy at all. He was starting to feel increasingly tired and any avoided unnecessary argument was him very welcome.

Aware that the boy would in all probability not be able to recreate his tactic immediately, Severus left Potter a moment to brace himself for his next attack. He knew enough on the Dark Lord's Horcruxes now to know where to push for more information in the boy's mind – and hoped that the boy would learn more this way as well.

As Severus suspected, when he finally cast the Legilimency spell again, Potter didn't fight him straight away. Snape assumed that it had to do with the fact that he didn't force for any painful or unpleasant memory this time. But then Potter should be able to recognize and fight also a supposedly innocent mental attack by now.

The Dark Lord was known for his many manipulations and the hunt for Potter and his little friends was one of his current priorities. It wouldn't do well if the boy was sent another false vision and would jump over head to "rescue" whomever the Dark Lord felt would be important enough to him – be it one of his classmates, relatives or members of the Order. Severus could even envision a trap offering a revenge on him, the murderer of sainted Albus Dumbledore, to the boy. The Dark Lord would without doubt find such an idea highly entertaining.

All of this on mind, Severus anew felt the intense need to give the boy a tool to defend himself. Once more successfully fighting his fatigue, he concentrated on his attack on Potter's mind, hoping against hope that he would be able to provide the boy just that in the limited borrowed time that was still granted to them…

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_Show me what are the Dark Lord's Horcruxes,_ Severus thought, increasing the pressure on Potter's mind. So far, the stream of the boy's recollections had only showed him a couple of glimpses of the boy's childhood – much like their ill-fated Occlumency lessons almost two years ago.

The pressure had clearly paid off – Potter's memory stream was slower and Albus Dumbledore's face was repeatedly showing on the front of the boy's mind now.

Severus thought to recognize the boy and the Headmaster bowing over Dumbledore's Pensieve – but decided against pressing for more detail as he didn't believe he would be able to see much of an older memory just through Potter's recollection of a Pensieve visit. Legilimency had its limits after all.

The next memory was one of Potter speaking to Horace Slughorn – most likely about his sudden "successes" in Potions. Suppressing his curiosity, Severus left this memory go by as well.

And then, finally, Potter's memories returned to the Head Office and a discussion with Dumbledore. Snape pushed for more detail, curious if the boy would start to fight him now. Despite he desired to have as much information on the Dark Lord's soul vessels as possible, he rather hoped Potter would find it in him to protect his knowledge – and with it also his mind against the Dark Lord's future attacks…

_The recollection of Dumbledore in Potter's memory was speaking of a "Diary"_ – Severus supposed the Headmaster meant the black book connected in some way to Lucius – _Potter inquired about the Philosopher's Stone_ – _the Headmaster confirmed his assumption of 7 Horcruxes_ – _Dumbledore showed Potter his blackened hand – _speaking of the mysterious, curse-caring Ring, no doubt; Severus didn't pressed for particulars here, not needing them after having fought the curse on the Ring to save Dumbledore's life the previous summer..._ When the recollection of Potter asked stupidly: "They could be old tin cans, or, I dunno, empty potions bottles…?" then, _Severus shook his head in disbelief. Had the boy not learnt anything at all while attending the school?

Distracted by his musing and fatigue, Severus didn't immediately feel it when the boy finally started to fight his intrusion. When he noticed the pressure against his invasion, he sighed in relief – it was about time. Simultaneously, he increased the power of his mental attack – this particular memory seemed to hold just the information he needed and he hoped to see at least another few pieces of it.

_Dumbledore was speaking to Potter about the Diary being a proof of the Dark Lord being a heir of Salazar Slytherin – the Headmaster mentioned objects of certain grandeur – Potter was crying out "the locket" and "Hufflepuff's cup" in triumph – Dumbledore smiled offering a bet to Potter on the nature of the Horcruxes – the Headmaster mentioned objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin – objects owned by Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – four objects from the four founders… _

_Four objects from the four founders,_ Severus repeated in his mind and shook his head in disbelief – yes, it was as simple and as genial as that. He felt a smile forming on his face. Today was not in vain then, no matter what would happen from now on, he thought satisfiedly. _The strange Diary was most likely some relict that was connected to Salazar Slytherin if it was proving the Dark Lord's relation to the founder. Yet to be found was the "Hufflepuff's cup", if Snape understood things correctly. The Locket Potter and Weasley were destroying in the other time line had possibly belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw of Godrick Gryffindor in the past._

_The Dark Lord most likely wanted to create a Horcrux the night he attacked the Potters – again choosing an object from one of the remaining founders,_ Snape thought. _But for some reason the spell didn't work well, if Dumbledore was right and Potter was indeed a Horcrux himself. The spell must have backfired when Lily's sacrifice protected her son…_

_The Diary – the Cup – the Locket – the Ring – Nagini – Potter. Six pieces of the Dark Lord's rotten soul. _

When Severus fully turned his attention back to Potter's memory, _the recollection of Dumbledore was just repeating the information he gave also to him – that Nagini was quite possibly much more than just a Dark Lord's pet. Then Potter was informed that Dumbledore was close to finding another Horcrux – and the boy received a promise that he could join the old man in retrieving and destroying it… _

_The reason why they were away from Hogwarts the night Draco managed to let the Death Eaters into the castle no doubt, _Snape mused._ I wonder if the boy would react as strongly as the last time when we touched this memory… _

As if prompted by this thought, Potter finally pressed back with such force that Severus was thrown out of the boy's mind. He half expected Potter to enter his own memory stream – but instead the connection broke when Potter's defensive spell, increased by the power of Snape's previous attack, knocked the Professor down together with the chair he was seated in. As his head hit the stone floor, Snape lost consciousness…

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_A/N: Thanks for reading. (-: Those of you who do not have Author Alert on me might be interested in my new HP, Snape centric one-shot "Home."_


	18. Down the Pensieve, Part 1

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 18: Down the Pensieve, Part 1**

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_Hogwarts, Room of Requirement_

_Christmas Day 1997_

Harry couldn't believe his luck. Snape was knocked down by the backfired Legilimens spell, the power of the disrupted connection so big that the man's head hit the stone floor so hard he fainted. If Harry was lucky – the boy was hoping so – Snape would remain out for at least a couple of minutes, giving Harry enough time to get his, or actually Hermione's wand back and escape if not Hogwarts than at least the Room of Requirement.

Snape's Laming Hex still in place, it took all Harry's willpower to stand up and get moving. But as Harry had discovered earlier, Snape's spell was not really blocking his limbs to move – it simply created a mental illusion that it was not possible. Perhaps such spells would indeed increase one's tolerance to other mental intrusions, Harry mused involuntarily, as he slowly moved towards Snape. But as he intended to never again study Occlumency, or even better to never again hear of it, it didn't really matter any longer.

Finally, the boy was standing over the figure of his fallen Professor, his eyes really taking in the unmoving figure in front of him for the first time that evening. The man was not looking well, Harry thought, rather surprised to see the much too sallow skin, sunken cheeks and the emaciated body. The boy hoped that this meant Snape had a hard time as the unwanted and undeserved Headmaster of Hogwarts – he had most certainly earned it.

_Right then,_ Harry interrupted his musing abruptly, realizing that there might not be much time left, _the wand._ _Snape would probably keep it on himself,_ he thought. But to go through the man's pockets – Harry shuddered. He could as well tell the man straight away to wake up. No, no touches – magic would be much better. But how? He was not really good in nonverbal spells yet – and wandless magic was claimed to be even more difficult. Not even Dumbledore or Voldemort were using it often...

And then Harry saw it – Snape's wand, previously hidden in one of the man's sleeves had almost fallen out of its place. The wand was now only partly covered by Snape's unmoving fingers. Harry smiled in relief, it would be fairly easy now.

The boy successfully fought the Laming Hex once more to sit and bow over the man – and soon Snape's wand was in his grasp. The wand didn't feel quite right in his hand, but Harry knew it would serve its purpose well. He turned it towards himself and whispered _Finite Incantatem._ The feeling of being lamed disappeared as soon as he pronounced the last syllable. Now, Hermione's wand – _Accio wand,_ Harry said quietly and waited. One of Snape's black boots shook slightly and soon, Harry was holding the familiar wood. He breathed in relief – and unthinkingly dropped Snape's wand on the stone floor just next to the man's hand.

A less reckless young man would no doubt have run to the threshold of the room he had been hold prisoner in in that very moment and would try to escape as long as he had the chance. But Harry's eyes spotted the silvery glittering of Snape's Pensieve instead – and it occurred to him that there might be a lot of useful information hidden there from him. Since he never needed to be tempted long, Harry abruptly nodded to himself – yes, he would look inside the Pensieve. The risk was well worth the possible gain.

The boy flicked his wand towards Snape and rather absentmindly bound the man, just in case. The man appeared to be still deeply unconscious so perhaps such a precaution was not even necessary, he thought. Then Harry stepped towards the Pensieve and swirled its contents.

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After a short wait, Snape's figure appeared on the surface of the Pensieve, the man walking towards Lord Voldemort, the other Death Eaters not in the sight. _Some secret meeting, _Harry thought, desiring for detail. As the memory Snape knelt in front of his Dark Lord, the boy didn't hesitate, bowed over the Pensieve and entered the memory.

"_My Lord," the memory Snape pronounced respectfully, waiting with his head bowed._

"_Severus," Voldemort acknowledged the man, eyeing him with deep interest. "So Bellatrix was wrong after all," he remarked quietly, his lips thinned in a smirk. "I have told her she was going to be disappointed. Pity she never really listens to anyone. Perhaps this will prove a good lesson to her."_

"_One shall hope so," Snape nodded, his gaze still turned to the carpet covering floor._

_Voldemort's smirk widened. "Indeed," he said. "You two provide me with good amusement – but do not overdo it, Severus, we have other things to take care of." Voldemort motioned to Snape to rise. "I hope your shelter is well protected so that the Aurors wouldn't find you until we have overtaken the Ministry," he said._

"_It is, my Lord," Snape assured. "I have taken all necessary precautions." _

_Voldemort gave a pleased nod. "I have not expected anything less from you, Severus. You shall remain in hiding until we have the Ministry under our power. Then I will call you again to give you new orders. For now, know that I appreciate your killing the old fool – it was fast and clean. I wouldn't have wished anything else to happen at Hogwarts, despite the boy's attempts to involve Greyback. We have to protect our children after all."_

"_Thank you, my Lord," Snape said, a small, self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Do you require me to brew anything for you in the meantime?"_

"_Oh yes, Severus, continue with brewing of the Polyjuice Potion. We shall need large quantities of it – and you are not going to have time for brewing after the beginning of September, I believe."_

"_I will prepare as much of the potion as possible," Snape promised. "Thank you, my Lord."_

Somewhat disappointed that the memory was not a fresh one, despite the interaction did interest him, Harry watched the memory Snape leave the room. Then the memory shifted and Harry found himself on a small hill in a middle of an unfamiliar park.

_The boy Snape, surely not much older than 10 years, was running down the hill, trying to catch a red haired girl about the same age as him who kept giggling and crying "You cannot catch me, Sev." Behind them, another girl, a bit older than the pair of them, followed, her face holding a scowl – she clearly didn't appreciate the company her friend – or perhaps sister – selected._

_Finally, Snape caught up with the first girl and a moment later blocked her way. "Got you," he said victoriously, a self-satisfied smirk on his face._

_The girl looked at him, her carefree face lit with happiness…_

… and Harry, who followed them down the hill, gasped, for the girl had his eyes. "Mum," he whispered, astonished, and then took in for the first time also the other, scowling girl – "Aunt Petunia…"

… "_That was a nice race, Sev," Lily smiled. "Have you enjoyed it too, Tuney?"_

_When the other girl didn't answer, Snape replied in her place: "Yes, she has."_

_Lily didn't hear it, but Snape _– and Harry_ – understood quite clearly when Petunia quietly protested: "No, she hasn't, you freak." _

_The boy Snape turned carefully to Lily and when he saw she was looking away from them, he leaned to Petunia and said, his voice low and dangerous: "Do not call me that or you shall regret it." _

_The girl Petunia frowned at him, keeping her voice as quiet as he. "Why, you are both freaks. Normal people do not go to some stupid castle to learn to do freakish things… you must be separated from us, normal people. You should be labeled Severus Snape and Lily Evans, weirdos – so that the rest of us is protected from you."_

Harry could tell that the young Snape was seething – _but the boy even now checked if Lily was still facing away before addressing her sister. "You will not call Lily names, do you hear me? And didn't you want to go to Hogwarts with us just a week ago? But they would not accept you, you are not like us…"_

"_No, I am not. I am no loner as the two of you, no recluse, no freak…"_

_The boy Snape eyed her with growing anger, his eyes darkened with ire. "I've warned you," he mouthed, and all of sudden, Petunia's legs slipped on a heap of mud that had not been there earlier – _Harry was sure _– and her white T-shirt and light blue jeans were covered in dirt just as her face and hands. _

_Lily turned then, alarmed by Petunia's displeased cry. She quickly ran to them and reached her hand to help her sister up. Doing so, she too noticed the strange spot of mud on the otherwise dry hill and looked at Snape. "You promised me, Sev," she said, disappointment plain in her voice. "I do not care you two do not like each other. You will not hurt her."_

_Snape was quiet, looking even a bit ashamed of himself, _Harry noticed with surprise_. The boy did not even try to defend himself, not sharing the ugly names Petunia had been giving them earlier. _

_Petunia Evans was smirking with satisfaction as she and Lily were walking away, leaving the boy Snape standing alone on the hill, his eyes at the heap of mud that caused this. "I will not hurt her again, Lily," the boy promised finally, speaking aloud despite the girls had long disappeared from his view. "I will not hurt her – unless she hurts you again." With that he too turned and walked away._

Harry stared behind the boy, his mind trying to proceed what he had just seen. Here he had the confirmation – Snape knew his mother and aunt when they were children. Hell, it even seemed as if they knew each other long before Hogwarts, as if they grew up together, as if Snape and Lily were friends… And still it was Snape who sent Voldemort after his parents, who kept belittling Harry for years, who murdered Dumbledore. Harry didn't know what to think.

In the meanwhile the scene in the Pensieve reformed, safely interrupting his musings.

_Snape, now in his teenage years, was lying on his bed in Slytherin dormitory at Hogwarts, judging by the green and silver decorations around the room. A book was opened in front of him – _a volume that Harry immediately recognized as the Half-Blood-Prince's Potions textbook_ – and Snape was scribbling notes to one of his spells there, now and then flicking his wand, probably trying to figure out the best wand move for this particular spell._

_Two boys entered the room then, laughing, and they approached Snape. Clearly unhappy to be disturbed in the middle of his work, Snape looked up, acknowledging them by a curt: "Avery, Mulciber."_

"_Hey, Snape," the one called Mulciber said, still smirking in amusement. "We came to congratulate you on that spell, the one you tested last week, you know. Avery here remembered the incantation and I recalled the right wand movement as you had shown it to us. One of those Gryffindor Mudbloods, Macdonald, was bothering us earlier and we tried it on her – it works perfectly."_

"_Do not call them Mudbloods, Mulciber, it has no sense to get unwanted attention from either McGonagall or Dumbledore at this point," the teenage Snape reprimanded, but his eyes were telling a different story _– Harry could tell he was greatly interested in the effects of his spell. _"Tell me rather more about the spell. Did she felt it when her arm splinched? Did it look the same as when the Sixth Years were training to Apparate? There was no blood, right, and the arm reattached itself after a minute such as I planned? Did it drop the wand before the arm got reattached?"_

_Avery and Mulciber looked taken aback by the stream of questions. "The arm got reattached, Snape. It didn't take long – but she did scream, so she must have noticed it. I do not believe it actually hurt, though – a pity that if you ever want to use the spell in a real fight. I do not know about the wand, sorry," Avery said finally. "Perhaps you should test your spells by yourself the next time, if you want more facts. Or ask Macdonald – or that Mud-, sorry, Gryffindor friend of yours, Evans, they are friends, right?... In any case, the spell is amusing – and if the splinched arm indeed drops the wand, then it's pretty useful, too." _

"_Yes, Snape, you are going to be a great assessment to our cause," Mulciber smirked. "Malfoy was right to pick you up as his protégé… Come, Avery, we will leave our genius to his research now. Fancy a Butterbeer?"_

_The two of them left then. Snape stared behind them, his expression unreadable. "I cannot ask Lily," he said aloud when the door closed behind them, his tone miserable. "She would think the spell Dark. She thinks all of them Dark – until Potter and his dear little friends manage to steal them and use them to amuse their admirers. That apparently is the only way to make them seem alright…" The boy shook his head in what seemed to be regret and returned to his research._

Harry stared at the younger version of Snape, scribbling a new set of notes in his book, _their_ _book_ actually, and was conflicted as what to think. Last year, when he had discovered to whom his Potions textbook had belonged previously, just after Snape killed Dumbledore, he was so absolutely sure that the Half-Blood-Prince was evil. In this memory, however, he stared at a Slytherin version of Hermione, a boy too studious for his own good, one who valued knowledge over everything else – except, possibly, his friendship with Harry's mother as it seemed.

Young Snape was also by no means evil – but not exactly an epitome of good either. Harry was astonished to find out that they were actually alike, that the Half-Blood-Prince was as he had envisioned him to be – clever, loyal, with a bit weird sense of humour.

He was not sure about the spells, though – he didn't think it was wise to share them with the Death Eaters in training. But Harry realized that Snape was right, too, that many of his spells would seem amusing when casted by Gryffindors – and evil when they would come from a Slytherin. Perhaps for the first time, he considered if it was the case also in the conflict between him and Malfoy – and felt his body freeze as he realized that it was indeed so.

But the Slytherins all turned dark in the end, didn't they? There was no trace of the kid Half-Blood-Prince in Snape now and Draco took the Dark Mark, too. Harry sighed; there was no sense in viewing these old memories – they were all meaningless now. What really interested him – and what was of real importance – were Snape's new memories, those which would reveal Lord Voldemort's plans to Harry. He hoped to see one of those now – for the memory shifted again…

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_A/N: Enjoyed? Then please leave me a review – I am much better motivated to write when receiving feedback. (-:_


	19. Down the Pensieve, Part 2

**Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 19: Down the Pensieve, Part 2**

_A/N: Here we are, Harry will learn the truth about Snape in this chapter. I have postponed it as long as it was possible. But do not fret, they will not be exactly friendly to each other until much later. For the time-being, being allies must be enough. (-:_

_I didn't want to simply quote JKR in this. This is why you are going to find two recollections in this chapter that are similar to those presented in DH. But they are by no means same – I am not comfortable quoting large portions of text of different authors and especially not from the original books. _

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_Hogwarts, Room of Requirement_

_Christmas Day 1997_

Harry was hopeful that the next memory stored in Snape's makeshift Pensieve provided by the Room of Requirement would hold some more recent information, perhaps another recollection of Snape's meeting with Voldemort or the other Death Eaters. Unfortunately for him, Snape seemed to have stored away mostly memories from the past years – or at least that was Harry's impression. Perhaps if he could use the Pensieve better, if he knew how to navigate to certain memories, he would be less disappointed… As the things stood, Harry entered a memory from his sixth year at Hogwarts, a recollection Hagrid had possibly already told him about – or a very similar occurrence.

_Snape entered the Forbidden Forest, hurrying forward, a deep frown on his face. As he reached the clearing closest to the border of the forest, his scowl deepened – Dumbledore was sitting there on a withered stump of a tree, his face smiling benignly at the approaching infuriated younger wizard._

"_Why here?" Snape snapped instead of a greeting. "This is your idea of privacy? That great oaf Hagrid or his dear overgrown brother might overhear us here easily and it wouldn't take more than one Hagrid's visit to the Hog's Head to bring all of your genial plans into public. The Dark Lord is going to be thrilled." _

"_Severus, I am delighted to see you, too." Dumbledore said, his voice calm. "I have asked you to come here for a reason, believe it or not. I am hoping to consult Bane on the opinion of Centaurs to the latest development. Hagrid and Firenze kindly provided me with information the Centaurs like to perform their "star gazing" as you would no doubt describe their observation of star constellations in this part of the forest during this time of the year. I am merely hoping to kill two birds with one stone so to say. You may set any privacy wards you would like, however, should you feel threatened by the forest creatures. Hagrid is currently visiting with his brother at his cave. He shall not return for at least another half an hour." _

_Snape kept frowning but, after he gazed around and deemed the air free, he apparently decided against pulling out his wand and setting the wards. _

_Dumbledore smiled at him, rising from his seat. "How can I help you today, Severus?" he asked kindly. _

_Snape's frown deepened. "I won't be able to do it. I haven't used the curse in years – and as I was told just yesterday, my Cruciatus leaves much to be desired. If you insist it must be me, pick up the potion. I cannot grant you that the curse would work."_

_Dumbledore shook his head. "The curse would be much more obvious. You need to be seen casting it should it come to this end – as I hope it will. I cannot allow you to undermine the plan now. You must be as high placed in His circle as possible – so that you can help the boy while I cannot anymore. There is not much time left."_

_Snape shook his head. "It must be the potion. I do not have the time nor do I care to practice the killing curse. Besides, it's entirely your fault that I cannot cast the Unforgivables appropriately these days. You were the one who insisted I was not to practice the Dark Magic once I joined the Order."_

_Dumbledore merely smiled. "You are better off not practicing the art, Severus. As to your current predicament – I believe you are trying to tell me you are not able – or do not wish – to use the Unforgivables when there is no obvious need for them, unlike Bellatrix, the Carrows or some other Death Eaters. I am confident that you would have no problem casting the killing curse in a duel for life. Or to finish an old man's pain – especially when you know there is no cure." The Headmaster raised his blackened arm to the view. Snape grimaced at the sight. _

_It was then that the first rain drops started to fall, announcing a storm. Dumbledore gazed up to the skies and frowned at the heavy clouds that assembled above them during their discussion. "Alas," he said, "the nature shall not allow any observation of stars tonight. Come, Severus, let us return to the castle."_

Harry stared at their retreating backs. Snape was really a great actor, he might have misled even him with his carefully chosen words and apparent insecurity in Dark Magic. Harry gave out a hollow laugh. Never trust a spy, he thought and watched as the memory around him started to dissolve, making place for another recollection.

And then it kicked in – the discussion he had just witnessed. It was not merely about Snape not wanting or not able to cast the Unforgivables. It was about one Unforgivable in particular – the killing curse. And the intended – and more than willing – target of the curse was nobody else than Albus Dumbledore. Harry blanched and thought he would be sick. Was the Headmaster's death planned? Was it him – and not Voldemort – who orchestrated it? And what it meant in regard to Snape? Was he on their side after all?

Harry didn't know what to think – and hoped that the next memory he was just about to witness would clear the things a bit…

_Snape and Dumbledore were in the Headmaster's Office now. Dumbledore's travel coat was prepared on the edge of the table and the Headmaster was gazing at the clock. _

"_Harry will be here in a moment. You should leave now, Severus."_

_The other wizard nodded but didn't move a bit. "I have a bad feeling about this," he said finally, frowning. "If you injury yourself any further, if the boy is not able to assist you – this might be very well the last time we speak to each other."_

_Dumbledore somberly nodded. "I am afraid you might be right, Severus. If the worst happens, remember that you must come to retrieve the boy. Fawkes would take you behind us in such an event."_

"_But you will not tell me where you are going or what shall you be doing there now," Snape stated, clearly not expecting a forthcoming answer._

"_No, I am sorry, Severus." Dumbledore smiled softly. They had clearly already discussed it earlier. "You know all you need to for the time-being."_

_The Headmaster approached the window then and gazed out. "I shall miss this view," he said quietly, not particularly addressing Snape. Then he turned back to the younger wizard: "Remember what must be done, Severus. If our plan works out as we hope and you would become Headmaster in my stead, do your best to protect the students and assist Harry."_

_Snape grimaced. "I will do my best to follow your orders," he vowed. "But I am still to come to terms with the fact you were raising the boy only so that he would die, being a Horcrux of the Dark Lord…" The man shuddered in discomfort._

…being a Horcrux of the Dark Lord, Harry repeated for himself and felt as if his heart stopped beating. So this was what Dumbledore kept hidden from him. He was to die to bring Voldemort down. The possibility had been there already before – but he had been able to hope for a different outcome. He had hoped to possibly win as improbable as it seemed, to perhaps survive after all. But this, _this_ meant that he was up for a Death Sentence – and there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do about it…

ooooo

This was how the present Severus Snape found him and pulled him, unresponsive, out of the Pensieve. The man expected that the boy would fight him, that he would receive at least a few kicks to accompany the throbbing headache he was suffering from his fall, before he was able to pacify him again. But the boy simply let himself be raised from the midst of the memory he was just viewing – not reacting, not speaking, dead to the world.

Snape frowned. Or better to say, his existing frown deepened – he was after all not delighted to find out the boy had penetrated his memories again. _What have you seen?_ he wondered. _Which recollection of mine could bring about such a strong reaction?_

When the boy had not moved for another few minutes, Severus lost his patience. He shook the boy by shoulders and requested: "What have you seen, Potter?"

Harry didn't react. Snape sighed and tried once more: "What did you see, _Harry?"_

This earned him finally a response. The boy looked up at him, his green eyes miserable. "I saw the memory of you speaking to Dumbledore the last time."

Snape went pale. "You know what the scar is?" He tried carefully, just in case that the boy didn't know all yet.

The boy nodded. "A Horcrux. _I am_ his Horcrux."

Snape closed his eyes briefly. This was not how he hoped it would happen. His hands still on the now shaking shoulders of his best friend's son, he whispered: "For what it's worth, I am sorry, Potter. I am very sorry, _Harry."_

ooooo


End file.
